Dante's Skin
by zarqa
Summary: AU true to history and most 'actual' events. Yes, Dante & Brenda, I went there, WAY before the show did.
1. Chapter 1

Dante walked onto the pier, at first going up the stairs to go south to Harborview Road and then changing his mind and going back down and then up the other steps to go to Kelley's. He stopped at the top of the stairs, realizing he really had nowhere to go.

He walked back down to the dock and found himself, yet again, paralyzed by the fact that his mother had lied to him all these years. Every time since he had found out and the realization hit him, he had had to stop dead in his tracks, his every organ frozen, stupefied. She had been his best friend, his one true confidante for so long. She had fed him and built a home for him out of nothing. And she'd been lying to him the entire time. Telling him how much she loved him and how proud she was of him and all the time allowing him to believe that she was so cluelessly loose as to not even know who had gotten her pregnant. All that talk of drugs and crazy youthful times: all lies. She had known the whole time. She hadn't slept around at all. She hadn't been strung out on weed or cocaine or whatever the hell else kids were into back then. She hadn't slept with half the guys on the block, half the goddamn stickball league, on the same night. A thought that had made Dante want to vomit every time he had thought about it. And how he had suppressed thinking about it all these years! No, she hadn't been a slut. She'd been in love with his father. And she had known who he was and not told anyone, not the father, not the son, no one. Dante could no longer go to her for anything. Not food, not comfort, not truth. The bitter taste in his mouth made him choke.

What the hell was he still doing in this town? The case against Sonny was moot. All the time and effort he'd spent working his cover seamlessly, lying seamlessly. Lying so much and so often that there was a spot on his forehead, a spot on his temple that would throb mercilessly with every lie he told. Almost sleeping with that crazy bitch Claudia just to protect his cover. All pointless now. The man he was hired to take down, the man who his mission it was to put away, was his father. Crazy soap opera. What the hell, he thought, this is my job. Why did it have to become a soap opera?

And Lulu. He had thought he had some sort of beginning with her. He liked her, and had laid his heart on the line, and told her in no uncertain terms, that he liked her. He'd shared personal things with her, his work, his cover, his quest for his father, his love for his mother, his interest in opera, he'd laid it all out: this is who I am, take it or leave it. And it looked like she was leaving it. Still playing stupid games, not wanting to get close, to be honest. Screw that. Was there really time to not be honest? Life doesn't stand back and wait for you to be ready for it. Dante had laid it all out, why was that so hard for the girl to do in return? Yeah, she had all these pent up insecurities. Insecurities over stuff she never deemed necessary to spell out for him. What was he supposed to do, read her fucking mind? Dante understood that not everyone was as confident, as well brought up as him, and he knew he had to be patient and deal with baggage and emotions and insecurities. But his life had just been turned inside out. If Lulu wasn't going to be there for him now, then when? He didn't want to go to her and be turned away yet again. If she truly wanted him, she'd have to make the move this time.

He looked out over the water, picked up a rock off the pier and threw it out into the water. Satisfied with the feeling of momentary release that gave him, he picked up another rock and threw it out even further. He wanted to keep throwing until his goddamn arm came out of its goddamn socket.

He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to go back to Brooklyn. So badly, he wanted to go back to Brooklyn and go back to a time when he didn't have to know all that he now knew. He looked down at the water and wondered, just for a second, if things would be easier if he just put the rocks back down on the pier and dove. Dove down into that murky Hudson River. Sank to the bottom or paddled over to that ridiculous island with the castle in the middle of the water, letting the waves wash him up on those jagged rocks. Who cared? Either way, the river could decide what to do for him. The choke in his throat was painful and he couldn't swallow it away. He could not look away from the water. He couldn't turn around and look at his life in this piss-ant little town.

Sonny. The thought of Sonny brought a cough of a laugh to his throat. A monster. A criminal. A murderer. Ruthless selfish bastard. How could half of Dante come from this caricature of a man?

Dante inhaled, the scent of the breeze over the river rushing into him, strangely clean, despite the murkiness of the water. He thought of Morgan. Such a sweet boy. Smart and generous. Totally believing the best in people. Reminding Dante so painfully of himself when he was younger. Happy, enjoying this privileged life, the kind of life Dante hadn't had, not materially, at least, but, for sure, emotionally. The support, the love surrounding that boy wherever he went had been the same: Dante had had that. Dante had been that.

And Morgan was Sonny. Was that Sonny? Sonny hadn't grown up surrounded by uncomplicated unconditional love, but he had made the effort to give that to his boys. He had tried to overcome the sins of this fathers by building a business. And then he had tried to leave the cruelties of that business. As it turns out, unsuccessfully, but, still, he had tried. He wanted to make a good life for his kids. But his demons were stronger. Dante knew he hadn't even nicked the surface in uncovering Sonny's demons. Here was a guy obviously capable of love. Capable of waxing poetic about fine wine, and food, and the Yankees. His fancy suits and his fancy cars aside, the love he felt for his kids was real, palpable. Sonny made no effort at hiding that. But why was he still a killer, why did he still think he had the right to decide who could live? Was he a killer? What demons of Sonny's did Dante inherit? What was inside Dante, waiting to surface? What parts of him were Sonny? A tear slipped down his face, stinging, and he hurriedly wiped it away.

He heard small wheels being dragged onto the pier. The squeak of wheels, rolling, dropping, rolling, dropping along the wood slats of the pier, a thud punctuating each roll and drop, a suitcase with one of the wheels missing. He looked over and saw a woman, a rush of black hair over her face, struggling with her broken suitcase.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dante, forcing himself to resist his first instinct, turned to walk back up the stairs. The cacophony of the rolling, thudding, squeaking baggage wheels was punctuated by muffled cursing.

"Goddamn piece of shit luggage," mumbled the woman behind her curtain of black hair.

Dante put his hand on the stair rail, inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes upward. All right, one last time, he thought. I'll be the hero one last fucking time. He turned to walk back down the stairs.

"Hey, you need help with that?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," huffed the woman, as she heaved the load over a hole decayed into the pier. "You'd think they would have redone this goddamn deck in all these years."

"I don't think it's meant for rolling luggage on."

"Thanks, that's very helpful. The boat shuttle from JFK drops off here. You'd think they would make the surface amenable to luggage. People coming from airports usually have luggage. You know?"

Mildly impressed by the fact that anyone would ride a boat all the way from JFK in Brooklyn to upstate New York, Dante ventured again, "Look, can I help you carry that? Which way are you going? I could take it up the stairs for you."

The bag the woman was dragging looked like it had seen better days. Ragged, carpetbag looking piece for crap, reminding Dante of the luggage his mom used to have in the early 90's. The woman, ignoring Dante, momentarily stopped dragging the bag, took a phone out of her pocket, and pried it open. She held it up at various angles and muttered, "Most reliable network, my ass."

She snapped the phone shut and returned it to her pocket. Pulling her hair back behind one ear, she said, "Okay, maybe you can help me. My phone's dead. This is going to sound strange but would you happen to know a Robin Scorpio?"

"Dr. Scorpio? Yeah, I've run into her a couple times."

"Would you happen to know where she's living these days? I know, it's not like this town is so small that everyone knows everyone's address. It's just that my phone…I need to reach her."

"Uh, no, I don' t know where she lives, but I can maybe call someone who might," Dante took his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, "Her ex, as a matter of fact. He may know."

Dante started to dial Jason's number and stopped, staring at the phone. No, Jason was another one. Another person in this town who Dante couldn't reach out to anymore. Sonny's right hand man wasn't about to offer driving directions to Sonny's new bastard son. What had he been thinking? The impulse to call Jason had come so naturally. He was Sonny's go-to guy and had served the same role for Dante many times. Jason, with that deceptively vacant look like nothing at all was going on his head at all, crickets chirping, and yet still miraculously being able to see two weeks into the future. It was a rare gift. A gift no longer available for Dante to tap.

Meanwhile the woman had started harping, "Her ex? You mean Jason?" The frustration on the woman's face had suddenly turned to anger. "You know Jason? Okay, so you must be one of the mob contingent in this town. It figures. You've got the look," she said derisively.

"And what look is that?" Dante also started to grow angry. All he wanted was to get this woman on her way so he could be alone and figure shit out. What was with all the chirping? "Look, I'm kind of new to this town too. I'm sorry I don't have Dr. Scorpio's number on speed dial. I'd like to help you, but if I can't then, so be it. Good luck!" Dante gave a cursory salute and started to walk away.

The woman breathed in and scrambled to stop him. "Okay, I'm sorry. It's just that the shuttle dropped me off at the wrong spot. I was supposed to go straight to Harborview Road, to the Quartermaine dock. And this luggage is heavy and broken and old." She lifted the bag up and threw it down roughly. "I can't believe I've been carrying this shit around for the last fifteen years. You know how some people hold on to stuff for good luck? Well, this bag here, it's brought me nothing but bad luck. And here I am still holding on to it."

All right, Dante thought, that was the last straw. Here he had Lulu on the one hand, a tease of a girl who wouldn't divulge so much as the time that she was getting off of work let alone her feelings about anything, unless he harangued her for it, relentlessly making him feel like a pushy, desperate jerk. And now, here was this woman spilling her guts, telling him her life story, the first five seconds after meeting him. Too much information, lady, he wanted to say.

Maybe Spinelli had it right after all. Get you rocks off in front of a computer monitor, in front of some role-playing game where you can play hero to the lady of your choosing and have her love you and have virtual sex with you forever, and leave these living, breathing, whack-job women to take care of their own damn selves. Dante was sick of being kind. He was sick of being a gentleman. Sonny was a gentleman. And look how he'd treated the women in his life. To women like the one standing in front of him, men like Dante were deemed obsolete. All right, then, let him be obsolete. Fuck if he cared anymore.

He sighed and said, "Okay, let me just help you get this bag up the stairs and then you can take it from there, does that work for you?"

Dante bent down to pick up the suitcase. At the same time, the woman bent down to shove the suitcase closer to Dante. Their heads bumped, releasing her hair from behind her ear in a cascading waterfall, brushing his face. Goddamn, son of a bitch, he thought, as the sensation swept over him, like a raging assault. Black velvet against his face. And the scent of her: Jeez fucking Louise. Dante let out a bark of a cough to release the impending stiffening. He stretched out his hand. "Dante Falconeri. Welcome to Port Charles."

The woman cocked her head to one side, threw out her hand to meet his, and said, "Falconeri? Hm. I'm Brenda. Brenda Barrett."

Dante pointed to the suitcase to assure he had the all clear. Brenda nodded and he picked up the bag and carried it up the stairs, with her following behind him. He set the suitcase down and lingered, noticing her stare. "What? Is there something else I can help you with?" he asked.

"No, no, that's fine. You've been very kind." She smiled and kept gazing at him, her head again cocked to one side. Wide brown eyes with tiny lines around them at each side. He knew better than to ever call attention to those little lines out loud to any woman, but, right now, to him, they looked like rays of light shooting out of her eyes. A smile and rays of light, but, still, the saddest eyes he had ever seen.

The woman shook off her gaze and said, "Sorry, I don't mean to be a freak. You just remind me a little. Of someone I used to know a long time ago."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dante walked away from the pier with no more direction than he had ever had. When he had introduced himself to the stranger on the dock, the moment his own name passed his lips, Dante realized that this was the first time since he'd been in Port Charles that he'd been able to divulge his real name, the very first time he met someone. For a second, it surprised him that he even remembered it. But he did remember it. He remembered who he was and where he was from and saying his own real god-given baptismal name out loud, without subterfuge or fear of being overheard, somehow allowed him to stand up just a little bit straighter. His back felt sturdy and strong for the first time in months. The dizzying throb in his temples from all the lies slowed a little, the pain abating somewhat. His brow was still furrowed though as he walked the streets along the docks, aimlessly.

* * *

Brenda stole her way into the back door of Kelly's Diner, a door that led straight to the kitchen. She tiptoed in to see Mike standing at the stove, stirring a large pot. Mike scooped up a spoonful of the concoction and tasted it, after which he closed his eyes and interjected a satisfied "Ah!"

Brenda giggled cheerfully and exclaimed, "Oh my God, that smells wonderful!"

"Brenda, honey!" Mike opened his arms to embrace her. "What are you doing here? How long have you been in town?"

He held her at arm's length and looked behind her to the door. "Don't worry Mike, there isn't a crazy arms dealer following me into town this time," she laughed. "At least I don't think so."

"Oh, it's so good to see you sweetheart."

"You too Mike. I've missed you." She picked up a spoon and dipped it into the bubbling pot. "I've missed this!"

She took a taste and smacked her lips. "Delicious! This doesn't taste like your original recipe chili though. Been learning some new tricks, huh?"

"Yeah, this is my first try at making Olivia's recipe for chili. It was a big hit a while back when she covered for me so I convinced her to lend me the recipe."

"Olivia?"

"Olivia Falconeri, sweetheart. You probably haven't met her. She's relatively new to town. An old friend of Sonny's."

"Funny, that's the second time today I'm hearing the name Falconeri. And it sounds so familiar. Maybe Lois...I mean if she was an old friend of Sonny's, I must have heard it from Lois or something. Lord knows he never clued me on his old friends or new ones, for that matter." She drifted off and glanced surreptitiously out at the rest of the restaurant visible from the kitchen.

Her focus returned again to Mike and she asked, quietly, "How is he Mike? Robin told me a while ago that he and Carly split up for good this time. And that Carly and Jax are married?"

"Yeah. He's fine, honey." Mike shrugged. "You know, I'm not always the first person he calls with developments in his life."

"Still." Brenda shook her head from side to side. "Mike, listen, I need to ask you for a favor."

"Sure, honey. Anything."

"I'm not really ready for anyone to know I'm here. I don't know how long I'm staying or if I'm staying. I just need to get in touch with Robin soon, but other than that I'd really like to hide out for a bit, you know? At first I was going to go to Edward and ask for my old room in the east wing." She chuckled. "I could have hid out there for days without anyone but the cleaning lady noticing me."

She continued, "But as it is, I ended up here at your doorstep."

Mike rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay." He hesitated before continuing. "I've got a guy staying upstairs but he's the only one right now. You can have a room up there for as long as you need."

"Thank you, Mike. I promise. There's nothing nefarious about me wanting to hide out." Brenda looked at her hands. "It's just that I've been away for so long. I need to feel things out a bit, you know?"

"Sweetheart, it's me. You don't have to reassure me of anything. I trust you." Mike reached out his arms and they embraced tightly. "Why don't you go up the back way? And let me know if there's anything you need, okay?"

Brenda smiled and nodded in gratitude. She picked up the suitcase she had left outside the kitchen door and hauled it up the back stairs.

* * *

Dante walked down the stairs from his room over Kelly's Diner. He stopped midway down the stairs and inhaled. Damn, what had been in that woman's perfume that he still smelled it an hour later? The scent made him hungry. Hungry for lots of things, but, for now, he would have to settle for food. He rubbed his stomach and continued walking down the stairs. Glancing quickly at the other tables, mostly empty, he took his usual spot at the head of the counter, and picked up a newspaper. He stared blankly at the print, his eyes unable to focus. What a freak I must look like to the people here, he thought, as he slammed the newspaper back down on to the counter. Mike came out from the kitchen and nodded a greeting.

"How you doing, son?" he said.

Dante searched longingly at Mike's face. Help me get out of this, please, he wanted to say. His eyes welled up with tears and he inhaled deeply to push them away. This was his grandfather standing before him. A grandfather who would have most likely loved to take him to see games, to take him to the train tracks to watch the El roar by, to Coney Island on hot summer days to share Italian ices. All those images of himself as a young boy holding this man's hand on a boardwalk, swinging at a ball thrown by him, laughing at his corny old-man jokes, all those images flashed before Dante's eyes and he was blinded.

He coughed to clear the frog in his throat and shrugged. "Ah, you know."

Mike poured some coffee for Dante."I've got your mom's chili on. Can I get you a bowl?"

Dante nodded. "Yeah, sure, why not." The hunger he had felt when he first walked down the stairs was still there but he couldn't imagine how he'd be able to manage getting food down a throat so blocked with unshed tears. He coughed again. Damn it to hell. It's food. You gotta eat. And it's Ma's recipe. When had he ever been able to say no to that?

Mike brought out the bowl of the steaming chili and placed it and a spoon in front of Dante. Looking deeply into the young man's eyes, he said, "Look, Dante, I know there's a lot you have to work out right now. You've got a lot to process. I want you to know that I'm here. I'm here if you want to talk." Mike lightly squeezed Dante's hand and started to walk back to the kitchen.

Dante reached out to stop Mike from walking away."Hey, the place looks pretty slow right now. You wanna join me for a cup of this stuff?"

Mike nodded, poured himself a cup of coffee and walked around the counter to sit next to Dante. The two men hunched over their coffee cups and stared at the sludgy blackness of it.

Mike started, "You know, Dante, if you're looking for any signs in yourself of the torment and the darkness that Sonny carries around with him, you're not going to find it.

You're a good guy, son. You've never been otherwise. Without blinking an eye, you saved Morgan's life, you sheltered Sonny, you saved Lulu more than once. You're not selfish. You're not caught up in your own drama. I think you've proven that over and over again."

Dante's load lightened somewhat with Mike's reassuring words. He breathed in and nodded. Black and white, right and wrong. Dante knew nothing was ever that simple. Sonny was neither completely good nor completely evil. But as sure as the inky bottomless blackness of the coffee in front of him, Dante knew that evil did exist in this world. Mothers who drove their babies into lakes, maniacs flying planes into buildings. These were not circumstances open to interpretation, to understanding. When laws are broken, laws that we've come by as a society to protect ourselves from ourselves, doesn't someone have to step up for the common good? When victims are thrown to the wolves, someone has to step up to speak for them, right?

Dante said, "As much as I like to think my line of work is about this clear line along what is right and what is wrong, legal, not legal, you know, I do look for subtleties. I find myself looking for origins. You know, looking at where a person is coming from. Not just the world they've created around themselves but the world they were born into that got them there."

"You're doing a very tough job and you're being too hard on yourself," ventured Mike. "Now, that is something you do get from him."

He continued, "You have to understand, Dante, it's nearly impossible for Sonny to see the good in anything. First of all, he's got this illness. Even when it's controlled by the meds, it never completely goes away. Then, he's in this business where he sees death all the time. He facilitates death. Sonny holds onto pain like a badge of honor. He revels in it. He does the unthinkable and then he takes the guilt and he wraps himself up in it like a cloak or something. As if the guilt is going to protect him and somehow make him less culpable. As if the guilt is going to keep him from doing the unthinkable again and again and again.

"Sonny has lost a lot in his life. He lost me, my presence and support when he was younger, then he lost his mother. And Brenda and all the babies he buried. And all his losses have been masked by the guilt he feels over them. Instead of processing losses in a healthy way, he transforms them like Frankenstein's monster into this procession of trophies, marked 'Sonny's Worst Fuck-up', each trophy bigger than the last."

"But he is guilty, Mike," Dante said matter-of-factly. "Yeah, the stuff in his childhood and the bipolar thing, he doesn't have control over those. But everything that came after, all of that was, in some way, orchestrated by him."

"Yes, but it's a guilt without accountability. There's nothing transformative about what he puts himself through over and over again," Mike explained. "Maybe he does need to pay for his real crimes. Maybe then he can finally forgive himself for the imagined ones. One thing I do know is that no one can punish Sonny to the extent that he punishes himself."

Frustrated, Dante threw his hands in the air, and said, "Oh, I've been invited to the pity party on many occasions, Mike. And that's all it is, him holding a party for himself and believing that he's the center of it all.

But, you know what, he's still got that house on the harbor, he's still got the cars and the servants and Jason. What has he really paid for? There's blood and bones and bodies buried under that house of his. Who pays for those losses? Doesn't he owe us, owe you, and everyone who has stood by him all these years? His children, for god's sake. The legacy he's leaving them. When is he going to pay for his sins?

Does he even realize how lucky he is to have you and Jason and Morgan and Kristina? Is he even capable of counting his blessings? I grew up without a father too Mike. But I never said no to the love that was given me."

"That's sort of my point, Dante. You've known the experience of joy and felt how it makes you better. Remembering goodness makes you better. Owning the goodness in yourself makes it easier to deal with the darkness." Mike turned to look directly into Dante's eyes as he continued, "Dante, Sonny should pay for his wrongs but, I'll tell you this right now, he can never be locked up. It'll kill him, Dante. Whatever remnant of light left in him will be extinguished, just like that."

Dante took note of the genuine fear in Mike's eyes and words. Of course, he was a father who could not see his son in pain. Dante, not being a father himself, understood this love Mike had for Sonny only as an abstraction. Hell, his own feelings for Sonny were just as abstract and amorphous. No, my father is not a regular Joe-six-pack after all, he thought. Does that mean I want him or need him more or less than I did before?

Dante met Mike's gaze and nodded. "Thank you. For the coffee, for my ma's chili, for the talk."

"Oh, Dante," Mike laid a hand on his grandson's shoulder and squeezed gently, his eyes welled up with tears, a smile on his face. "You make me very proud." He patted Dante's hand, rose from his seat, and returned to the kitchen.

Dante took a last gulp of his coffee, rose, and looked at the door leading outside. No, not yet, he thought, as he turned to go back upstairs to his room. Walking down the hallway he heard some movement in one of the rooms across the hall from his. A new tenant. Great.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Brenda came down the stairs slowly, looking down into Kelly's, checking for familiar faces. Not seeing anyone she knew, she took a seat at the head of the counter, reached behind it for coffee, poured herself a cup, and opened up a newspaper in front of her face. Her perusal of the day's headlines was soon interrupted by an obviously annoyed woman trying to calm someone on the phone.

"Marty, listen, you gotta stop bustin' chops over here. I know you're overwhelmed right now, what with Carly handing over her job to you at a moment's notice," Olivia said into her phone. "Yeah, it's kind of funny her wanting to be a stay at home mom all of a sudden. Why a stay at home mom needs a full-time nanny too, I'll never know, but whatta you goin' to do.

"Yeah, I'm just picking up a jolt of caffeine and sugar at Kelly's. Going through my own share of drama right now. Needed a head start on the day, you know? Yes, Marty I'll be right there when I'm done here... Yeah... Yes, Marty... Goodbye."

Olivia folded her phone closed and before she had the chance to put it back in her purse, it rang again. She glanced at an unfamiliar number on the caller ID and answered, "Hello? Yes, this is Olivia Falconeri."

Olivia nodded a greeting to Mike as he met her at the counter. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief as she continued on the phone, "Yes. Listen, I'm not at my desk right now. Can you please call the Metro Court directly and they'll be happy to take care of your concerns. Yes, I know you got my number from them, but I'm sorry, I really can't help you right now."

She looked at the phone in disgust and closed it. "Can you believe Marty, forwarding calls to my cell phone like that? Jeez."

Mike shrugged. He put a cup of coffee and a bear claw in a paper bag, handed it to Olivia, and said, "That's what you get I guess for leaving a five star hotel in the hands of underlings."

Olivia took the bag from Mike and looked searchingly at his face. She asked quietly, "He still here, Mike?"

"Yeah, honey, he's upstairs," Mike replied. "He's doing okay. You know, we had a nice talk the other day. He's just processing things at his own pace. He'll come to you soon, I think, when he's ready."

Olivia looked at the stairs, her face full of pain. She nodded to Mike and turned to walk out of the diner.

Brenda, who had been peeking from behind her newspaper, put it down and started, "Excuse me? Did I just hear you say your name was Falconeri?"

Olivia stopped mid-step and turned to face Brenda. "Yeah, Olivia Falconeri. And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Brenda Barrett."

Brenda got out of her seat and extended a hand for Olivia to shake."I was, I am, really good friends with Lois Cerullo. Your name just rang a bell I guess. I think she must have mentioned your family once or twice."

A smile crept across Olivia's face. "Oh, you know Lois? It's been a month of Sundays since I saw her. How are she and Brooky doing? You know, as a matter of fact, her ma, Gloria is the reason I came to Port Charles in the first place," she said, swatting her hand in the air. "But that's a story for another time."

Brenda smiled and ventured, "And you know Sonny?"

"Yeah, I know Sonny," Olivia stated flatly. She hugged her bag of coffee and breakfast close to her and turned to walk away. "Well, it was good meeting you, Brenda. Say hi to Lois for me the next time you guys talk. Try the bear claws here, they're fantastic."

Olivia walked out of Kelly's leaving Brenda looking on, wondering what her rapid change in tone and expression had been about. Sonny sure had a way of clearing a room even at the mere mention of him, she thought. Brenda picked up her newspaper and started flipping the pages.

* * *

Dante stood at the bathroom sink, idly running his shaving blade under the water.

His thoughts went to his mother and back to that first betrayal. He should have seen this shit coming even back then. She was clearly out of her mind. Behaving in ways that defied reason, defied their relationship as mother and son. It couldn't have been just for the sake of that asshole Johnny. Why hadn't Dante seen the signs of what was to come? A shoe much bigger than Johnny, way more important than that piss-ant punk had any hope of ever being, was about to be dropped on Dante's head. And he hadn't seen it coming.

Dante always knew the relationship he had with his mother was different from the relationship other kids had with their parents. Other kids, kids whose parents were together, never had to think about their parents as sexual beings. They never got to see their parents in action, so to speak. Putting themselves out there, trying to meet a future partner, opening themselves up for rejection. Dante had the chance to see his mom being approached by men, how she handled herself when she needed to reject them, how she handled herself when she was interested, and, even on those rare occasions, how she handled herself when she was the one rejected. She had always kept a cool head, never been overly emotional or attached. And Dante had always admired that about her. She had always put him first. Her romance novels had always stayed on the shelf.

It's not like she hadn't had boyfriends before. There was Vinnie the plumbing tech, Renaldo the drywall guy, a whole slew of normal average-Joe guys. Lonely guys, maybe with a kid or two of their own, smitten by Olivia's good looks and quick wit. Most of these relationships hadn't gone past hoisting a few beers and playing a few games of pool, and maybe, if Dante really allowed himself to think about it, some quick feel-ups in backrooms and cars. Or maybe Olivia had been able to get some release on the days when Dante slept over at his grandma's or at a friend's house. He had really never wanted to let his mind go there. And his mother, bless her, had never forced whatever trysts she had on him. Even though Olivia had been careful about not bringing around guys she was just casual with, Dante met some of these men, even became friends with some. It really was okay. He knew his mother got lonely sometimes, and despite his gut reaction as a confused teenager himself trying to maneuver his way around the mine fields girls laid out around themselves, he never resented his mother's need for male companionship. Dante knew it couldn't have been easy for her with him around.

All this understanding went out the window the first time Dante walked in on Olivia and Johnny together. How was he supposed to deal with the image of his mom doing the couch mambo with a kid the same age as himself? There was no lapse in his respect for his mother, not ever. But a kid? A whack-job mobster from an insane family? What the hell was she thinking? It wasn't that she was disrespecting herself. It was more that she was taking unnecessary risks. And for what? Getting in bed, literally, with a person who could put her life in danger?

And then the betrayal. Her knowing that Johnny knew who Dante was and keeping that information from him. What the fuck was that about? Why would she keep such crucial information away from Dante like that? She knew very well how much this job meant to him. How driven he was to succeed and how exhausting and sick the weight of it all was.

Olivia knew Dante couldn't tell a lie. Hell, she'd taught Dante to never lie. And here he was in a job where all he was doing was lying. Hadn't she realized the toll that took on him? She didn't get how it ate away at him?

Dante had left his own life behind in Bensonhurst. His friends, the rest of his family. No one came to visit him when he was hospitalized after the carnival. Even Olivia had to sneak in and lie the entire time she was keeping vigil at his bedside. No one he knew in his life as Dante Falconeri had come to check whether he lived or died. This was the life he'd chosen as an undercover cop. A life where all prior ties had to be put on hold indefinitely until the case was solved. So, he had to be okay with the fact that no friendly faces had come by to wish him well. Lulu had visited but with nothing more to give him but more coy games. No one had come by with a full and generous heart, except Morgan. That bright-eyed optimistic kid, with never a bad word to say about anyone. Dante was this close to destroying that boy's trust forever. And Olivia didn't get that? To know Dante was this close to breaking the heart of a little kid? No, she chose to put Dante in the line of fire. And for what? A lay with a kid half her age?

Supposedly, Olivia had kept Sonny from Dante because he was a mobster and she wanted to protect Dante from that life. But then she turned around and got in bed with another mobster? Granted there wasn't a chance in hell Dante would ever see Johnny as a step-father figure. That very idea brought a choke of a laugh to Dante's throat and he had to smile bitterly at the absurdity of it. Dante was sure that in Olivia's mind, her relationship with Johnny would not have, was not supposed to have, any effect on Dante. Dante was a grown man. He no longer needed the men his mother dated to be father figures for him. But didn't she realize the danger was still there? Didn't she realize that Sonny and Johnny came from the same messed up world that she had always claimed she wanted to protect Dante from? And Johnny, as a kid born into this life, with never any other choices or possibilities, wasn't he actually, in some ways, more dangerous than Sonny? Sonny, at least, had had the potential of being a normal kid. Once upon a time, Sonny was a kid swinging a bat on 19th Ave, loving his ma, playing with the neighbor kids. Doesn't the very possibility of innocence, a little sliver of a hope that the little boy in him was not completely dead, render Sonny just a slight bit better than Johnny?

Or was that Olivia's point all along? She wanted another chance. Dante as a child had been in the way of her making any attempt to save Sonny. Now that Dante was an adult, did Olivia now sense she was free to act on her need to save another mobster from himself? Dante shook these thoughts off, realizing that he was probably complicating things that weren't really that hard to understand. Olivia was lonely; Johnny was there, simple as that. Olivia's grown son could take care of his own self now.

And where were Sonny's feelings for Olivia in all of this? Dante saw how hard it was to find that man's heart underneath the tortoise shell he had built around himself. He showed his heart for his kids. But the craziness with Claudia indicated that Sonny had given up on having any romantic love of his own.

Dante's mind went to Christmas at the Corinthos house. Sharing that fantastic chicken braciole, his grandma's recipe, prepared by his father. More glaring neon signs he hadn't seen. No doubt that night had been wretchedly uncomfortable but, at the same time, hadn't Dante felt a tiny flicker of what a real home must be like, sitting at a table sharing food and conversation with his ma and pop?

And before that, when Sonny had confessed his interest in Olivia. Dante had sat there, listening to Sonny, feeling the visceral pain of a kid on a playground when some bully is talking shit about his mother. Of course Sonny hadn't been talking shit about Olivia; he had just been expressing his quiet intentions. Nonetheless Dante had felt the assault of imagining his mother as the object of desire. That too, a desire coming from a man who was a career criminal. As much as Dante was disgusted by the idea of Sonny ever being with Olivia, hadn't he also admired Sonny a bit, the noble, gentle way he had declared his intentions?

If he had only realized then, that shit was the half of it. But how could he have known? And even if he had known, how would that knowledge have made today any easier?

Dante looked at himself in the mirror, his brow tense and furrowed. He examined his eyes and looked at his mouth. I was conceived in love, he thought. His mother and father had loved each other. Whether or not they loved each other now or would in the future was beside the point. Dante looked at himself and recognized and affirmed the fact that he was a product of love. A spark settled into his eyes at that thought.

Dante shook the water off his shaving blade, wiped it clean and put it away in his shaving kit. He zipped up the kit, looked around at the bathroom counter, shook his head and walked back to his room to finish getting dressed.

* * *

Dante tentatively walked downstairs. He looked around the room and his eyes settled on a shock of black hair, the back of the head of a woman trying clumsily to hide her face behind a newspaper.

He nodded to Mike at the counter, smiled, and said, "Did I miss some important headline this morning? Looks likes something really captivating just happened."

Brenda pulled the newspaper down from her face, squinted at Dante, her eyes and face opening up as she recognized him. "Oh, hello. It's you. From the dock."

Dante's expression similarly changed as he recognized Brenda. "Yeah," he said. "Brenda, right?"

"Yes." She gestured upstairs. "So you're my hall mate?"

Dante nodded. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, and I know it's tough having to share a bathroom with a stranger, but there's really limited counter space in that room and things might be easier if you packed up your lotions and potions and crap when you're done in there?"

Brenda smiled slyly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I used to be in the beauty product business," she said. "It was my job to try out new stuff. Old habits. I'm sorry if it was in the way of your morning ablutions. I'll be sure to put it all away the next time I go up."

Dante shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. It pretties up the place, that's for sure. And it all smells...great," he breathed in. "Just saying you probably don't want to leave your fifty dollar body butter lying around," he continued. "You wouldn't want it ending up in the wrong hands."

Brenda's gaze fixed on Dante's mouth as he uttered the words "body butter". Her eyes travelled down his body, to his hands, and back up to this mouth, and she smiled. "Oh, I totally agree, you never know when you'll be sharing a hallway with someone who has a thing for expensive body butter," she laughed brightly. "Thanks for the warning."

Brenda's laugh was like a feather caressing Dante's body. It was infectious and he couldn't help but to smile. His mind was reeling with clever lines, things he could say to keep this woman talking. Maybe this one would work: 'I don't know if you're beautiful or not, I haven't gotten past your eyes yet.' Or maybe: 'Falling for you would be a very short trip.' But he didn't try a line. He simply remained locked in her gaze, smiling, enjoying the feeling of lightness her dancing eyes was bringing him.

Brenda broke the gaze and, underneath a coy smile, said, "It's been my experience that people who share a bathroom don't stay strangers for long."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Okay, folks, I think I know where I'm going with this. Have a s/l and an arc in mind and am about halfway through I guess. It's turning out AU future fic, but I intend to keep it true to history and current developments on the show. Informed by various spumors too. Lante may make an appearance way later, I'm not sure yet. Stick with me! And please let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 5**

Dante walked out of Kelly's with a coffee in his hands, his eyes squinting in the sunlight. As his skin tingled with the warmth of the midday sun, he wondered if this was what a vampire felt walking out of a sarcophagus for the first time. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked over to see Brenda sitting at a table, eyes closed, face angled towards the light, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee.

He sauntered over to her table and said, "Feels great, doesn't it?"

Jostled out of her reverie, Brenda looked at Dante and smiled, "Yeah, makes you think you're a vampire or something. But in reverse, you know, like you want to drink up the sun instead of run away from it."

Dante was dumbstruck for a minute, then chuckled quietly and nodded, "Yeah, something like that."

"Still a snip in the air though," Brenda said as she shrugged her sweater closer around her and took a sip of hot coffee. "It's funny how you forget about the upstate New York chill until you're back in it."

"I take it you came here from some place warmer?" Dante asked.

"Yeah, Rome, Italy, as a matter of fact." She examined Dante's hesitant stance and gestured to the seat across from her at the table. "You wanna sit and bask with me?"

Dante laughed softly, shrugged, and sat down across from Brenda. "I guess I could use a good bask."

He continued, "So the Old World? My people from way back are from Italy."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed," Brenda smiled mischievously. "Have you been?"

"Nah, I've been in sort of work mode for a while now. It seems like the time for traveling is right after you're done with school and you have the resources to go backpacking through wherever. I didn't do the college thing, so no backpacking or foreign exchange trips for me. And then there's retirement. People travel when they're retired. And I'm a world away from that. So, no, just work for me. Not much time or inclination to think about travel."

"Ah, but you could have a job that lets you travel," Brenda ventured.

"Yeah. I sort of have that, I guess," Dante shrugged. "I mean work is what brought me here from Bensonhurst. But you can't really call upstate New York a travel destination."

Brenda nodded knowingly and looked down at her coffee, "No, that it is not."

"My great Uncle Vito, who my Uncle Vito is named after? He used to go on and on about Italy. How the light is different from anything you've ever seen. This yellowy orange reflecting from the clay rooftops and casting long shadows in the narrow streets," Dante said.

The vision flashed in his mind of the grouchy old man who held a soft spot for Dante. Great Uncle Vito: smoking his apple pipe on his front stoop in Brooklyn, growling at the kids causing trouble in the street, and telling stories of faraway Italy to young curious Dante at his knee.

Dante continued, "And he talked about the trees, the cypresses…"

Brenda finished the thought, "…all lined up and reaching towards the sky like candle flames? But dark."

"Yeah, Vito didn't quite put it that way, but, yeah."

Dante tapped at his coffee cup and suddenly felt unnerved. He didn't know what to make of this woman, who he'd barely just met, already finishing his sentences for him. He felt a strange peace swelling in his gut, surrounded by the trembling, unsettling feeling of wanting to hold on to it for as long as he could before it went away.

"Rome has more palm trees than cypresses," Brenda continued, "Yeah, the city is laden with history in its architecture and courtyards and there is a romantic, sort of other-worldly feel to it, but mostly it's just mad with tourists, lots of crowds, a lot of insane traffic."

"I know my ma would have loved to see Vatican City."

"Oh, the churches, all of them, are magnificent," Brenda smiled. "The only true refuge from the craziness of the streets."

"Yeah, I've seen pictures. The church here, Queen of Angels, reminds me a little of the pictures I've seen, structure wise and with the courtyard and foundtain out front. Have you seen it?"

Brenda laughed cheerlessly, a deep sadness cast over her eyes, "Oh, I know that church very well."

She shook off whatever she was feeling and quickly changed the subject, "You know you get these cute juxtapositions: a place called Formaggi, right next to a place called Pane."

"Bread and cheese, what more do you really need?" Dante said.

Brenda laughed and continued, "Then there are these twin churches, identical, built right next to each other and in between them is a street called Via del Corso, the busiest shopping street in the entire city."

"Now that's something Ma would love. Churches and shopping. Talk about bang for your buck," Dante joked.

"You've heard of the legend of Fontana Trevi, right? Throw a coin in the fountain and you're sure to come back to Rome?"

Not waiting for Dante's response, she went on, "Well, Trevi Fountain isn't really a fountain at all. It sounds more like a waterfall when you approach it from a side street. It's this massive pool of water, the length of an entire building, with tourists lined up all around it, cameras flashing day and night.

"The architecture and sculptural elements are truly amazing but a lot of attention is paid to façade. Sometimes the façade of a building will stretch out to the sky making the building seem bigger and grander than it actually is.

"So you have the ostentatious and ornate on one hand and then you have a building like the Pantheon, this ancient structure rich with history, a stone's throw away are newer building and busy walkways making it stick out like a sore thumb in the middle of all the human traffic teeming all around it."

Dante ventured, "So would you say it's a city of contradictions?"

"No, not exactly. There is a consistency and a uniform feel to it, I guess. But it seems to be a consistency based on chaos."

Dante said, "When I was a kid, our school would take field trips into the city to the Met. And Ma took me herself a few times too. She loved looking at the Italian stuff and she wanted to expose me to it too I guess. Anyway I remember always being amazed by the sculptures. The statues, you know? It was fascinating how they were able to carve marble to look like draping robes, all those folds and shadows. I'd get this deep urge to reach out and touch it to make sure it wasn't really fabric and they weren't just duping us into thinking it was marble. One time I did reach out and the guard and my ma caught me. The looks they gave me, man. Let's just say, I never tried it again."

Brenda smiled widely and demurred, looking down at her hands. "Sure, traveling gives you exposure to new people, new languages, new foods. Mostly you realize that people are basically the same everywhere you go. If you're lucky , you discover little gems of places tucked away in some alley not on the tourist maps, some place that is so foreign and yet so real and true. You find this place or person that can tell you something about yourself. It's like you're in this foreign place and what you're really learning about is home.

"One of the best things about leaving home for a while and going someplace totally different is that you get a new perspective on your life. You get that distance and you see your life and the lives of people around you. And either you say, 'hell, what am I doing in the little town I'm living in,' or, 'boy, my life is pretty darn good right now, I'm going back home.' Without that perspective, you can get caught up in the day to day stuff, and before you know it, time has gone by and you're still stuck in the day to day."

Dante nodded but had to ask, "Taking a couple weeks off or even living elsewhere for a while doesn't really give you an escape from the day to day for long, though, does it?"

"No, but it's a respite. A breather. An opportunity to see the big picture outside your work or your partner or whatever else occupies most of your time," Brenda said. "I suppose some people are lucky enough to have work that allows them that perspective."

"You mean like the creative types?" asked Dante.

Brenda nodded.

Dante took a deep breath and looked away from Brenda for the first time since he had sat down. He had been lost in the pictures she drew with her words and captivated by her smile and the sound of her voice. The warmth of the sun on his neck combined with the sense of lost time and space, allowed Dante to forget, for just a while, where he was.

Looking down at his hands, he said, "My work is more...insular. A lot of time spent inside my head, and time spent concentrating on getting inside the heads of the people I...uh...work with. Not much time to look outwards and appreciate the landscape. The beauty of the big picture is sometimes lost on me. I see a lot of bad stuff in my line of work and that can cloud up your vision sometimes."

With a note of concern in her voice, Brenda asked, "What do you do? Are you a neurologist? Is that how you know Robin?"

Dante had to laugh openly. "No, I'm not a brain surgeon. I'm… a cop." By force of habit he had hesitated to make the confession. But once again with this woman, he found himself relieved that he was now in a position to be perfectly honest about who he was. That bastard gave me that at least, he thought, the image of Sonny's cold stare again fresh in his mind. At that thought, a pain, one that he had managed to momentarily forget, settled back into Dante's chest. He placed his hand over his heart and coughed loudly. The physical pain was a searing hot poker on his chest. He looked at Brenda and managed to stifle the next cough. His eyes welled with tears from the pain and he looked over to see a sight that elicited a wild fear coupled with a strong urge to run.

Sonny had entered the courtyard outside Kelly's. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Brenda and stood there motionless, unable to speak. He glanced over at Dante and his eyes lingered, still shocked. Sonny walked over to their table and reluctantly began, "Brenda. I didn't know you were in town. "

Brenda inhaled and coldly stated, "Hello, Sonny."

Sonny shook off his initial shock and turned to Dante. He asked, "You two know each other?"

Brenda volunteered, "We just met."

Sonny's face softened a bit, but then it went immediately back to its usual detached cold self. He directed his attention to Brenda and smiling slyly said, "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. Looking real good. Italy must be agreeing with you. Look at all that sun kissed hair."

He reached out to touch some wayward curls of Brenda's hair. She quickly and instinctively shrunk back from his touch, her body repulsed while her eyes remained locked in his. Sonny pulled his hand back before touching her and let it linger in front of him in a semi-closed fist.

Dante had been closely examining this exchange between the two, a confounded expression on his face. Feeling like he had walked in on something private and ineffable, he finally asked, "You two…uh...know each other?"

As the words left Dante's mouth, Brenda broke free of the gaze she had locked with Sonny and started chortling loudly and brightly. She tried to control the laughter by covering her mouth with her hands but she had no success keeping it from reaching her eyes. Both men were rapt and could not look away. Dante determined that even though she sounded absolutely crazy, he couldn't avert his attention from the openness, the lack of inhibition in her laugh. And her eyes were hypnotic, sparkling like two fireflies, aligned, aflame. He was confused and felt like he wasn't in on the joke, but, strangely, that didn't bother him. He didn't care to know what he was missing, caught up as he was in the light beaming out of those eyes. He wondered how a woman could look so crazy and so goddamn beautiful at the same time.

Sonny smiled a toothy grin, letting his eyes linger on Brenda's face. Her eyes locked back on him, her laughter now awash in coldness, she said, "No, we don't know each other at all."

Sonny's smile faded slowly and he shook his head from side to side, "No, I guess we don't."

He turned to Dante and started, "Dom…uh…Dante." He laughed derisively. "It's going to take some time to get used to calling you that."

Sonny continued, "I didn't expect to still see you here. Thought you'd be needed back at headquarters in Bensonhurst."

Dante, refusing to look the monster in the face, with a voice laced with anger, stated matter-of-factly, "I'm not leaving my ma here alone."

Sonny nodded and leaned in, trying to get Dante to look at him. His eyes lingered on Dante's face. He reached out his hand towards Dante's on the table, only to immediately pull it back. Instead, he knocked facetiously on the table and, in a voice laced with mock cheer, he spit out, "Well, you two kids have fun."

Sonny turned and walked into Kelly's.

The smile and laughter that had taken over the table a minute ago was now gone from Brenda's face. She looked curiously at Dante and asked, "How is a cop friends with Sonny? And why does a cop have the number for Sonny's enforcer in his cell phone?"

Dante stated coldly, "Who says we're friends?"

He got up, his hand back on his chest and hurriedly said, "Look, it's a long story. Remind me to tell you some other time."

Dante touched his hand gently on the table in front of Brenda and turned to walk away from Kelly's.

Brenda remained seated looking out after him, her face still quizzical. She jumped as her phone rang. She retrieved it and answered nervously, "Hello?"

A look of horror and panic leapt over her face as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Okay, this ended up longer than I anticipated and I didn't get to reveal something I wanted to (something I really wanted to include in the last chapter, and didn't get to it there either! Hope I'm building anticipation and not just annoying you all) It's moving along at a steady clip and I'm adding to the cast list too. Thank you to those who have reviewed so far. Please keep sharing your thoughts and ideas!!**

**Chapter 6**

After hanging up her phone, Brenda quickly rose from her seat at the table outside Kelly's and started to rush away from the diner.

A young man walking towards Kelly's, intently looking down at the phone in his hand, mumbled as he pressed a button scrolling through his phone contacts, "Drake, Patrick Drake, where did I put your number…"

Brenda crashed into the young man, nearly knocking him over. The man rushed to grab the phone that had nearly been knocked out of his hand and looked at the woman who had run into him.

"Whoa," he said, "where's the fire?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, excuse me," Brenda said, flustered.

She got her bearings and continued, "Excuse me, did I hear you say the name Patrick Drake? Do you know Dr. Drake?"

"Why, yes. He's my brother," the young man said, forgetting the phone in his hand and looking intently at the fiery woman standing before him. "I'm Matt Hunter. I'm a doctor too. Dr. Matt Hunter."

"Oh, congratulations, that must be great for you." Brenda could sense the impending attempt at flirtation and she wanted to unequivocally communicate her impatience with it. "Listen, do you know Robin Scorpio. Of course you know Robin. Your sister-in-law?"

As Matt nodded, his phone began to ring and he gestured to Brenda to hold her thought while he answered the phone.

Brenda ignored the gesture and asked impatiently, "Can you tell me if she's at General Hospital today?"

"Oh, always the bridesmaid," Matt mumbled to himself and then said out loud, "I don't have Dr. Scorpio's schedule in front of me, but, yes, if I recall correctly, she must be coming off her shift now. I'd try the daycare. She's probably picking up my niece."

"Thanks," Brenda said. Before running off in the direction of GH, she gestured to the phone still ringing in Matt's hand. "You better get that."

Matt looked on as Brenda hurried away. He shook his head from side to side as he answered his phone.

"Yeah, Epiphany," Matt spoke into the phone. "I think I may have just run into the first truly New York woman I've met since coming to this town. I mean besides you and my sister-in-law, of course."

A loud and irate voice screeched out of the phone and Matt found he had to hold it away from his ear to prevent damage to his eardrum.

"New York woman? Are you on crack? You honestly think I care about your provincial perception of who or what constitutes a New York woman? Never heard anything so preposterous in my life. Granted most of the inhabitants of this town look like refugees from the hell mouth of the Red Lobster in Burbank California, but that's neither here nor there. Besides, Dr. Hunter, aren't you from Grand Rapids? What do you from a New York woman?" Epiphany yelled into the phone. She huffed angrily and continued, "Enough with the distractions! You have a patient crying out in pain and a doctor who failed to leave a scrip for morphine when he clocked out. Mr. Hackett, remember? Morphine. He needs morphine!"

Matt put the phone back to his ear and said, "Oh, shit. Yeah. Push 2mg and I'll call in an order for a self-administering drip right now. Thanks Piph."

Matt contritely dialed the number to the pharmacy as he walked into Kelly's.

Wearing dark glasses and looking around surreptitiously, Brenda walked into the daycare center at General Hospital. Just as she was about to approach the desk, she saw Robin off to the side, adjusting a blanket over a beautiful black-haired toddler in a bright red stroller. Brenda ripped the glasses off her face and clapped excitedly.

"Oh my God, Robin. Pictures do not do this little beauty justice. How stunning is that baby! Oh, Emma. I've waited so long to meet you!" Brenda squealed and dissolved into mommy speak as she bent down to the stroller and tugged at Emma's feet.

"Brenda!" Robin exclaimed. Brenda rose, and the two women embraced tightly with bright smiles on both their faces.

"When did you get back? Where are you staying? Why didn't you let me know you were coming to visit?" Robin asked eagerly.

"I promise I'll answer all your questions," Brenda said as she led mother and baby to a seating area outside the daycare center. "Can I please just hold this precious child first?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Robin. She unfastened Emma's seatbelts, picked her up and handed her over to Brenda.

Brenda held the baby gingerly and melted down into a chair with Emma in her arms. She cooed, "I promise Auntie Brenda will try her hardest not to scare you, little one."

Brenda held Emma lovingly and examined her face and her little hands and smelled her hair. "Oh, Robin, how can you stand it? Don't you just want to put her up on a shelf where you can look at her all day and know she's safe and nothing bad will ever happen to her? Somewhere where she'll never be hurt or have her heart broken?

Robin smiled and nodded. "Yes, that impulse to protect her is pretty intense. It takes my breath away on a daily basis."

"One of the biggest regrets of my life," Brenda sighed, "is not having one of these."

"It's not too late for that, Brenda."

"I know," Brenda said wistfully. Then she laughed. "Maybe you can give me a reference for a good fertility doc and sperm bank. First, though, maybe I could get an appointment with your husband and have him scan my brain and tell me why I'm still alone and seemingly unlovable."

"Oh, Brenda, you know that's not true. Besides, a brain scan can't possibly give you answers to those types of questions," Robin laughed sympathetically.

She continued, "Look at me, Brenda. Love was the last thing I thought I'd have. A baby was the last thing I thought I'd have. And it happened. A baby and a father to that baby, who I love and who loves me. I can actually calculate the odds of all of this happening for me and let me tell you they were never on my side."

"Yes, look at you now. All grown up. Beautiful. A career, a family. The smartest woman in this town, that's for sure," Brenda gazed lovingly at her old friend. "My little sis made good."

Robin shrugged and sighed, "You know, it wasn't easy. It never is." She held her sweater closer around her, but then, as if changing her mind, opened her sweater a bit, looked at Brenda, and with a smile started to stroke the bump at her belly.

Brenda squealed with a high pitched intake of breath and held her mouth open in joyous surprise. "Oh! Robin! You're pregnant!"

Robin nodded and giggled slyly. "Yep, we haven't told anyone yet. Only Patrick and I know. I guess I just wanted to keep it to ourselves for as long as I could. But I'm starting to show, so, what the heck. Now you know."

"Of course, you're starting to show, being as tiny as you are! Oh my God, Robin, I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am for you guys," Brenda's eyes welled up with tears of joy.

"We knew we were taking a risk. Again. But with my viral count being so low and with Emma being perfectly fine, we couldn't not try for another," Robin explained. "And then, you know, the biggest form of birth control you can use is to have a toddler already in your house. You'll never believe all the maneuvering we had to do, making sure the stars were perfectly aligned. To make this baby."

"And this time you'll totally know what to expect if the post partum depression hits you again," Brenda said. "I so wish I had been around to see you through that."

Robin looked down at her hands and said quietly, "You know, I never missed not having a sister until I met you. Sure, I had Maxie and Georgie as my cousins, but they were so young, way too young, to share in the heavy duty adult stuff I went through with Stone and Jason. You were there for me, Brenda, through all of that. As for the post partum depression, believe me, there were loads of people bending over backwards to try to help me and, the disease being what it is, I refused to accept help from anyone.

"But you and I have that sisterly connection still, despite the fact that we now live on different continents. That's the kind of bond, that kind of sibling relationship, is what I really want for Emma."

Brenda smiled and said with a soft laugh in her voice, "Emma and this little one in your belly may be making history in this town as the first siblings to share both the same mother and the same father."

Robin laughed out loud, "I know! What a concept! Who can really say, they may not be best friends. They may even have a sibling relationship rivaling Jason and AJ's."

Both Robin and Brenda shuddered at that thought. Then Brenda smiled with a faraway look in her eyes. She looked down at Emma still sitting peacefully in her lap and kissed the baby's forehead. She then winced a bit and put a hand to her temple and started kneading it.

Robin continued, "I know Patrick and I are totally excited about finding out, though. Watching them grow. Watching them become friends. Doing our part in creating the loving and nurturing environment for them where they can become friends.

"I mean just look at the crazy things happening with Sonny's kids. You just never know the damage your life choices can inflict on your kids. Damage that can shake them to their very core. Hell, shake up an entire town."

Brenda frowned. "Why, what's happening with Sonny's kids?"

Before Robin had a chance to reply, Brenda grabbed her temple again and ejected a soft but still audible, "Ow!"

"Listen," she started. "I thought I'd have more time to settle in, get used to being back here, but it looks like I may have to hurry things along a bit.

"You know the last time I was here we found out I didn't inherit my mother's illness after all?"

Robin nodded and asked concernedly, "But you're still having the headaches?"

"Yes. They come and go and sometimes get so bad that I can't see straight. Doctors in Rome have given me the diagnosis of chronic migraines. And I am being treated for that," Brenda said. "But I wanted you and Patrick to check it out too."

Brenda winced again, got up suddenly and screamed in pain, "Ow!" She spilled Emma back into Robin's lap, grabbed her head with both hands, and sank back down onto the couch.

Robin tucked Emma back in the stroller and focused her concern on her friend, "Okay, Brenda, why don't you try to go up to Neurology and get Epiphany to give you a room. I'll call Patrick and have him meet you there and I'll be up to see you as soon as I can."

Brenda's hands remained wound tightly in her hair, around her temples. She mumbled something inaudible and nodded while Robin sat beside her, hugging her shoulders. Both women waited until the wave of pain in Brenda's head subsided. Brenda then rose to make her way down a corridor to the elevators while Robin wheeled Emma back to the extended daycare center.

On her way to the elevators, Brenda walked by several patient rooms, one with its door open. The sharp pain in her head had dulled enough for her to note how peeking into hospital rooms was like turning one's head to look at a car wreck by the side of the road, an irresistible instinct that one had to consciously fight against in order to keep the traffic moving. She found that, try as she might, she couldn't resist. She glanced into the room to see a dark-haired man with his back turned to the door. She had every intention of looking away immediately, but the broad shoulders, muscular back and circular tattoo at the base of his spine held her eyes captive. He was looking down at his chest and as he turned around, Brenda saw that it was Dante. Her eyes immediately went down to his chest where she saw a jagged incision over his breastbone. The scar was remarkably raw looking and the sight of it made Brenda suck in her breath and gasp.

"Wow, what happened to you?"

Dante startled at her voice and quickly reached down to pull the fresh bandage over the slowly healing incision. "Oh, it's nothing," he said. "You should have seen the other guy."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Brenda stood outside General Hospital, a phone held to her ear and her eyes dark with an anger tinged with fear. "You know just because he runs the mafia in Rome doesn't make him my boss. I mean, what the hell? I'm running a nonprofit organization, what does he care if I take some time off?

"Yeah, yeah, I know, he's got some bad blood in Port Charles. Unresolved business, blah blah. Spare me the god damn details, okay? I have no idea who Claudia Zacchara is and I don't want to know.

"He knows, I've told him repeatedly, I have nothing to fear in this town. I have people in this town that will protect me till their dying breath. People who would take a bullet for me if they had to.

"Yeah, never mind who, just... Look. Whatever. I've had enough of these mobsters and their maniacal obsessions. Tell Rudy I'll get back to Rome when I get back to Rome. And do me a favor, please? Don't call me again!" Brenda snapped her phone shut and walked rapidly away.

* * *

After his follow-up appointment and with fresh bandages on the wound on his chest, Dante continued to roam the halls in General Hospital. This place is a maze, he thought, with a different story in every hallway. He'd never been much for stories, but now that his own life and work had become part of a larger story in this town, he found himself wondering, guessing at, when the next plot twist was going to be, what lurked beyond the next corner. He still felt small, incredibly small; a minor player in the big scheme of things. He hadn't done his job in bringing Sonny down. And now. Now, what?

Down the hall, he saw Alexis ushering Kristina into an office. Alexis had an arm around her visibly distraught daughter and she seemed to be whispering some reassuring words in Kristina's ear. After a moment, Alexis stepped back out of the office alone and started walking towards the lobby.

Dante thought back to when he had first seen Kristina all bruised up. He had been sickened by the assault on his little sister. Even as her body had healed, he knew, from his few scattered experiences working with victims of domestic violence that the real wounds ran so much deeper. What kind of idiot would lay a hand on such a sweet girl? Granted Kristina's behavior had been erratic, ever since Dante had known her. That first time when she walked in on him in Claudia's room all shot up telling him crazy stories about having to sneak around to see her brother and then that random conversation at Kelly's about boys or whatever that had made Dante all kinds of uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, yet instinctively supportive too. But what teenager was ever totally together emotionally? He wanted the guy who had hurt her punished, but, more than that, he wanted his sister to heal completely, body and mind. It's probably too late, he thought. How does a woman even heal from something like that? That kind of damage can't be undone no matter how strong you are. All Kristina could really do was transform the experience into something empowering, something she could build up from, instead of that something in her life, in her history, which always held her down. Dante continued walking down the hallway to the lobby and saw Alexis talking with Sam. He listened in on their conversation.

Sam spoke, "...Even though I'm in a really good place right now, what's happening with Krissy is bringing back memories of some times in my life that I thought I'd gotten over. I've totally made peace with the fact that you weren't around when I was growing up. And I think you've made peace with that too. We're in a good place, right?"

Alexis replied, "Yes, I think so. I mean you were there for Kristina when she felt she couldn't come to me for whatever reason. I'll always be grateful that you were. And despite the…deviations… in our past, I think we're doing pretty well. You know I love you, right?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I know." She continued, "You know, Mom, all my dysfunctional past relationships with men aside, all that weirdness, you know, don't you, that Jason is the best thing to ever happen to me? I know you don't completely approve of the relationship, but you have to know how much a rock he is to me. I consider it a miracle that we were able to rebuild what we had and are stronger now than ever."

Alexis shrugged and sighed, "Oh, you know how I feel about that. I'd love if you led a strong independent life and had a career that you're proud of. And you do have a good job now, but..." she hesitated, looked at Sam and smiled, a bit condescendingly. "If Jason is your rock, then, who am I to say what's what. Fortuitous that he is in fact built like a boulder, a sheer rock face wall actually, so it all works out I guess." She punctuated her remark by patting Sam's knee.

Sam chuckled a bit but then her brow furrowed and she sighed deeply before continuing, "Anyway, all of this brings me to what I really want to talk you about. You know how what's happening with Kristina is forcing everyone to look at the relationship she has with Sonny? How having Sonny for a father may have influenced her choices in men? Having Sonny for a father has to have warped her sense of what it means to be a good girlfriend, right?"

Alexis started, "Hm. Yeah, that."

She continues, "Yes, Sonny never raised a hand to her and I don't think he ever would, but, who he is, what he does, most definitely has to have impacted the way Kristina sees men and power and her role as a good girlfriend. He never laid a hand on Kristina and I'm sure he never would, but, let's face it; his job is all about establishing control through violence. She was never in a position to be afraid of him, but she always knew, in the back of her mind, that he made a lot of people very afraid, and that was his job: fear, intimidation...fomenting terror to get what he wanted. How can that knowledge not have played a role in who she chose as a boyfriend or partner? Her father got his power, made his living, through fear and violence. That was her normal. Warped as it is. God knows, I tried like hell to protect her from it...but that ultimately may have made it all worse. Taking him out of her sphere of influence, convincing him to keep his distance, may have worked towards glorifying him in some way. She's spoken her mind to him on several occasions but even that, her calling him out on all his misdeeds, is just another way to glorify him. She doesn't know what a normal nurturing relationship with a man is. She's had no example of it."

Alexis had an increasingly faraway and sad expression when saying all this and turned suddenly to look at Sam. She did a double take as if just remembering who she was talking to.

She then continued, "Would that my daughters were conceived by spontaneous regeneration or immaculate conception or some such thing. I love you all more than I love my right arm, but, for fathers, not a one of you has been dealt a fair hand. In all honesty, I haven't dealt you a fair hand."

Sam gingerly squeezed Alexis' hand and quietly said, "You never told me about my father."

Alexis shook her head from side to side and took a deep breath, "Okay, I think it is time I do that."

She settled in to tell her story. "As you know I was sixteen when you were born. And my father arranged the entire thing. My father arranged everything around your birth, your adoption, the lies he fed to me about what happened to you. All of it was him. I was getting ready to go to college; I was finally going to get away from all the Cassadine horror. I was on my way to Yale. Everything was set. I had these visions of the perfect getaway, the perfect escape into another life. I had visions of university, libraries, walls and walls of wonderful books, classes, challenging professors, all lay before me like a field of gold."

Her eyes lit up briefly but then went dark again as she continued, "Someone invited me to a party at a university in New Hampshire near my boarding school. There was a guy there. Dark hair and the darkest eyes I'd ever seen. Not much taller than me." She shrugged, "What can I say, I have a type."

Alexis smiled briefly and then squinted into Sam's eyes and said, "Yes, now that I'm looking, I do believe you have his eyes."

Sam smiled weakly and listened intently as Alexis went on. "He was significantly older than me. I don't know if he was a student at that university. I somehow doubt it. He didn't have the look, you know, of a college student. He told me his name was Ray, but then I heard some of his friends calling him Rudy. I have no idea what his last name was. I was sixteen. He was much older and I met him in this idyllic environment, the place of my dreams, a university. It was a one-time thing. It just happened, just like that. Before I even knew what was happening actually. Like I said, I never knew his last name. And he never knew about the pregnancy. Even if my father hadn't made it impossible for me to tell anyone, I never saw this Ray, Rudy, guy again after that one night to tell him anything. So he never knew about you. I'm sorry I can't offer you more information than that."

Alexis glanced at Sam with sincere apology in her face. She shook it off and rushed to say, "I hope you know Sam, that we, all of us, are greater than the sum of our parts? We are neither our fathers nor our mothers. Whether we knew them and they raised us or not. A lot of crap can be attributed to bad parenting, but in the end, our lives, the way we all turn out, is on us."

Dante had been listening to this exchange from a distance. Lurking around corners, eavesdropping, trying to get the right bits of information that would add up to the strongest case, those skills were all a part of Dante's job. But now, it was all so much more personal. Dante found himself lurking around corners, and staying to listen whenever he heard Sonny's name mentioned, which, let's face it, was a lot in this town. He stayed and listened, not to gather evidence of criminal activity, but to gather bits of evidence about this new family of his. Insight on who they were, who he could trust, who had his back, and who among them would be persistently loyal to Sonny no matter what. Alexis' insight on Sonny, the role he played in what happened to Kristina, all rang true. Dante practically hadn't even heard whatever Alexis and Sam had discussed after that. The admission about Sonny, "fomenting terror", rang in Dante's ears and the din was deafening. The words cast a fresh sharpness over the bitterness already settled irrecoverably in his throat. Dante had seen the bruises on Kristina's face. They were as clear as the scar on his own chest.

Dante waited for a lull in the conversation between Alexis and Sam. He then walked out and nodded casually at them as he headed towards the elevator.

Alexis smiled widely and gestured towards Dante, "Now there's a fine example of how we are not our fathers. No one exemplifies it more than that fine young man right there."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Ma, he's a rat who's been lying to everyone in this town for months."

Alexis turned towards Sam and sighed, "Yes, echoes do bounce perfectly off of a sheer rock face wall."

Sam frowned at her mother and with a perplexed expression blurted, "Huh?"

"Oh, never you mind. It's just me stretching a metaphor way past the breaking point," Alexis squeezed Sam's arm. "Look, hon, I hope this talk has been helpful to you."

She rose and gestured towards the hallway, "I think Kristina must still be waiting for her appointment with Dr. Lee. Just a check-up, but she was still...apprehensive, you know? Would you be a dear and fetch her one of those smoothies she likes? I know she'd really appreciate that."

Sam inhaled and shrugged, "Uh, okay."

* * *

On a whim and once again engaged in one of his aimless walks around town, Dante found himself at Hangman's Bridge. He found that the sight and sound of flowing water was the only thing effective in cleansing his mind. He stood on the bridge and inhaled deeply. His expression went from pensive to quizzical. That perfume again? He looked over and saw Brenda standing some distance away on the bridge. Her body was absolutely still, gazing out at the water, letting the breeze do its thing with her hair. Dante smiled a half-smile and waved clumsily at her.

"Hi there," he said quietly.

Brenda was jostled out of her thoughts. She looked over and smiled brightly at Dante.

"Hi yourself."

Dante walked over to where she was standing. Brenda turned back to face the water.

"You know this bridge used to be completely different the last time I lived here. Lived here for real, I mean. These Roman looking columns weren't here then, and I think the entire thing was made out of wood."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, the old bridge was destroyed in a car accident I think," Brenda stated flatly.

Dante sensed there must be something more to the story but he didn't feel very much like venturing. He wanted to turn back and look at the water too but he found himself inadvertently looking across at Brenda as she stood next to him with the breeze moving through her hair. There was a strange peace around this woman. Something ineffable but something he longed to get closer to. Also a strange familiarity. Rather, a feeling that she sensed in him a strange familiarity. Dante could tell this was a woman who had a hard time holding anything back. She wore her vulnerabilities fearlessly, for all to see. What you saw was what you got. Her openness and genuineness totally drew him in. As she stood next to him and without any conscious thought, his arm bent upwards and his hand went to her back, his fingertips barely grazing the brilliant white blouse she was wearing. The mere graze was enough to sense the heat of her skin beneath his fingers. He immediately drew his hand away and turned back to the water, slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry," he laughed lightly.

Brenda turned to him and again smiled that brilliant smile that astonishingly made him feel like he could do no wrong. She whispered gently through the smile, "its okay."

She turned around, her back to the water, and gazed into the distance. "Spring is so glorious isn't it? When it finally gets here?"

Dante turned his back to the water too, faced the tree line, and nodded in agreement.

Brenda continued, "You know, you look at the leaves budding out of that tree, and you have to think: we will never be in this exact moment again. Those leaves will come out, they'll do their thing and then they'll fall down and the branches will be bare again. And next year more leaves will come out. But these leaf buds, right now…we two standing here right now…it's a moment in time that will never happen again. There's something to be said for living in the present. Letting go of past crap and taking a rest from thinking about the future."

Dante nodded again. Her words, her presence, brought on an overwhelming sense of relief. Like he could turn his mind off for a little while and just feel.

She went on, "DNA does determine a lot. It determines our hair color, the color of our eyes, whether we carry a gene for cancer, or some crazy other illness. What it doesn't determine is our potential. Who we are is more than skin deep. Who you are is more than that scar on your chest. Whoever put that scar on your chest didn't reach all the way in. He or she couldn't possibly have."

Dante felt that if he turned to look at her now, it would be impossible for him to hold back that little moisture creeping up behind his eyes. Those damn tears that he hadn't allowed himself to shed yet or ever. How could she know? How could she know exactly what he needed to hear? He wanted desperately to pull her closer. He wanted desperately to tell her and show her how incredibly safe and fearless she made him feel. A sense of security he hadn't felt since his mother betrayed his trust. And a fearlessness that Sonny had effectively stripped him of the day he shot him.

Brenda was lightly leaning towards Dante, her hair momentarily brushing his shoulder. It was really more than he could stand. He leaned in too, turned, and gently took her face in his hands, his fingers entwined in her hair, her head nestled firmly in his grasp. He brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her. His senses flooded with the softness of her mouth, he pressed harder, wanting to sink deeper, to disappear in her. Brenda returned his kiss, breathing him in, forgetting about whatever it was that had brought her to this bridge. Forgetting, but then seemingly remembering something, someone. With a sharp intake of breath she stepped out of the kiss. Her hand went to her mouth and she looked at Dante with confusion and surprise.

She exhaled, "You?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N So, the last chapter was a bit long so I split this one up into two. Which means the next installment will be coming up shortly. Thank you so much to my readers and to those encouraging me along the way (I'm looking at you zou2 :))) As always, I'd love if you all would take a second to review.**

**Chapter 8**

After their kiss, Brenda held her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide in surprise, gazing at Dante's face, focused first on his eyes and then his mouth. She seemed to be looking for clues to something. Dante could only respond with his own puzzled expression.

He laughed weakly and whispered under a smile, "Well, I've never quite had that affect on a woman before."

They continued to gaze at each other and soon both broke out in wide smiles and clumsy laughter.

"I'm sorry," Brenda said as she grabbed Dante's forearms. "There is just something about you that is so familiar and yet…not…you know?"

"No, can't say that I do," Dante smiled. He really didn't care to figure out what she was talking about. His mind was still focused on the softness of her mouth and all he could think of was when he'd have the chance to kiss her again.

Just as Brenda leaned up, ready to further explore the puzzle of why Dante's touch felt so real and comfortable, her phone rang. Her face changed when she saw the name on the caller ID and she turned away from Dante to answer it. She spoke quietly into the phone, "Yeah, Robin? Are the results back...Okay, I'll be right there."

Brenda hung up her phone and turned back to Dante. She reached out a trembling hand to squeeze Dante's hand. For a moment Dante sensed that she was holding on to him to steady herself and he squeezed back. She let go of his hand and started to back away. "I've got to go…"

Dante nodded and looked on after her as she walked away.

* * *

Visibly troubled, Brenda rushed towards the entrance to General Hospital. In her distracted mindset she didn't notice the leather jacket heading her way and, thus, proceeded to run right into Jason's arms.

Jason held Brenda at arms length and smiled, "Whoa, who's this now?"

Brenda shook her head, seeming to notice him for the first time and stammered, "Hey, Jas, good to see you too…Sorry I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'd love to catch up, maybe later..."

Jason held tight and, with a lightness in his voice, said, "Hold on, hold on. Let me have a look at you Brenda. Is everything all right? You didn't come to town to escape some psycho who's going to follow you here? Is there anything like that I should know about?"

Brenda smiled briefly and managed to snicker, "No, not exactly."

Jason mocked a sigh of relief and continued, "Before I even get to asking you what you're doing in town…I got to ask: Sonny told me he ran into you and Dante outside Kelly's? Brenda, you know who Dante is, don't you?"

Brenda's smile faded and she defiantly stated, "Yeah, he's a cop. So what? I'm not allowed to show an interest in someone on the right side of the law for a change?"

Jason exhaled and grumbled quietly, "Yeah, he's a cop, but that's not even the half of it. Look, you don't know what you're getting into here. Take a breath, take a minute, and think it through."

"Think about what Jason? A cute, okay, let's face it, really hot, guy....a good guy....shows an interest in me and your Jason-radar goes up? What harm could he possibly cause me? What do I have to fear from a cop, Jas? What?"

"I'm not saying he would hurt you. I'm saying you don't know the whole story."

"So tell me Jas! Oh my God, trying to talk to you has got to be the most frustrating experience of my entire life," Brenda said exasperatedly. "Funny that we're sort of picking up right where we left off. I really do have to run..."

Jason sighed deeply and conceded, "Okay, let's drop that for now. Are you absolutely sure that nothing is wrong?"

Brenda relaxed her antagonized stance and focused intently. "There is something I need to ask you about." She drew a deep breath and hesitated, "Okay...but first. Is he...Sonny... okay? He looked kind of worn down when I ran into him. I mean, more so than usual."

Jason guardedly replied, "He's okay for the most part. Lots of crazy stuff happening with his kids, that's all."

Brenda nodded, "Yeah, that's what Robin said. But she didn't elaborate. How much trouble can the kids be causing him already? Michael's what, 12 or 13, and the other two are like, 7 and 8, right?"

Jason laughed and shook his head from side to side.

"Whatever the case and however old the kids are, I always knew that a man like Sonny could only be brought to his knees by two things: his mother and his children. He's all posture and bravado for everyone else but that arrogance totally fails him in front of his kids, doesn't it."

Jason nodded knowingly.

Brenda grew thoughtful and said, "It's funny, isn't it. People like Sonny and...Carly." Her face changed to bitter disgust. "The most selfish people you could ever imagine. They're awarded this absolute gift of children. While people like you and I...well." She continued, "Yeah, you've got this job that isn't very child-friendly. But I know Jason, if you took a chance to do something different with your life; you'd be the most self-less father ever."

Jason's smirk faded and he looked off into the distance, his face full of pain.

"I remember you, you know, in high school. Before the accident. The purest sweetest boy," Brenda smiled. "You were so good, Jason. I know you don't remember and maybe you don't like to be reminded. But you're not as different now as you and everyone else likes to think. It's just the job. If you want to take orders the rest of your life, there are lots of other people you could take orders from besides Sonny."

Jason grew impatient and sighed, "You know I can't talk about this Brenda. Sonny is my family now. And this is my life. There's no going back." He glared at Brenda and asked pointedly, "And when did this conversation get to be about me? What are you doing here Brenda?"

Brenda shook off her memories of the Jason she knew in high school, and, with a freshly focused mind, asked, "Can you tell me what you know about Claudia Zacchara?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Wanting to snap himself out of his funk and get some kind of exercise to hasten recovery of his battered body, Dante invited Morgan for a session at the batting cage. It was spring after all, and it was time that he woke up a little out the stupor hanging over him.

Even though Dante was confused and baffled by how it had ended, the kiss he had shared with Brenda also figured heavily into his need to heal himself. Sure, the two had shared some dark introspective moments, but Dante knew you can't build a relationship out of shared sadness. If this thing with Brenda was going to go anywhere, Dante wanted to be at his best, physically and mentally. Sometimes, just the prospect of a human touch, a glimmer of shared intimacy, is all you need to feel in order to kick your butt into gear. Brenda's depth, her gentleness, her honesty were all inspiring him to smile more, to open himself up again.

Morgan probably needed some cheering up too, Dante thought. It can't be easy for that kid to have his illusions of his father shattered at such a young age. Not that he was allowing his illusions to be shattered. But it had to be coming, right? Morgan was persistently optimistic, persistently supportive of his father…their father. That kind of loyalty has to get exhausting after a while, Dante thought. Dante felt a connection with Morgan regardless of his unconditional support of Sonny. Clearly Morgan's blindness of Sonny's true character was something that had been brainwashed into him by his mother and Jason. He was just a kid. No kid should have to deal with violence and death and insane cover-ups. Morgan couldn't help it if that was all he ever knew. It's not like he ever had any choice in the matter.

Neither Morgan nor Michael ever had a choice, thanks to their mother. And whatever Kristina thought of Sonny had similarly been colored by her mother's perception of him. Dante was in the unique position of being the only one of Sonny's children who had been protected completely from his influence, good or bad. It took a lifetime spent lying, but, in the end, Olivia had given Dante this: the ability to see his father with the clarity of vision only afforded a fully grown adult. Dante had the luxury of approaching his father with a mature, independent mind, clear of fallacies influencing him to one side or the other. He had the privilege of making up his own mind about Sonny. That was the power Dante had. It was also the responsibility he had towards his siblings. The responsibility of helping them navigate the rocky terrain of being Sonny's children.

Dante was lining up bats inside the batting cage when he saw Morgan skipping over to meet him. He could swear he felt his heart soften whenever he saw this kid. Funny I felt a connection with this kid even before we knew we shared a father, Dante thought. Maybe there's something to be said for DNA after all.

"Hey there, Morgan. Glad you could make it out today."

"Yeah, I was kind of surprised to hear from you. Sorry to have to keep asking every time I see you, but I hope this is a brotherly visit and not business?"

"Nah, no business to be discussed here my friend. Just thought I'd take advantage of the spring day and call you out to hit some balls." It saddened Dante to see his brother look at him with suspicion every time they met. He wanted desperately for his job to not be a barrier in getting close to his siblings. But it had to be for now, right? There was no way around it. All he could do was ease their mind that he wasn't out to get them into trouble or use their conversations with him as ammunition against them or their father.

Morgan nodded and relaxed. He picked up a bat, tapped it against the ground, and said, "So I read in the sports pages that they're some real stars in the line-ups coming up. Yankees may have some tough competition this year."

Dante shrugged, "If you ask me, the tougher the competition, the better the games." He stepped aside for Morgan to take position in front of the pitching machine.

Morgan shifted his stance and drew his bat up to his shoulder, ready for the ball. The pitching machine popped. Morgan's bat made contact but the swing was wild, his arms flailing and his elbows going akimbo to meet the ball.

Dante offered, "See, you're rushing it. Let the ball come to you. Stay strong and steady."

Morgan drew in a breath and set up for the next ball. He managed to hit a grounder and passed the bat to Dante.

Dante poised at the plate. When the ball came at him, he swung a clean hit, eliciting a round popping sound where bat met ball. He nodded in satisfaction. Not bad for someone with a hole in his chest, he thought.

Morgan shook his head and smiled admiringly. "You got to love that sound." He took his turn at bat and this time swung with more confidence, resulting in a clean strike. "I was thinking. You really have to admire the professional players' earning potential, right? You know A Rod raked in 33 million last year? And that was the year he was in a slump...until the playoffs anyway."

Dante picked up a new bat and traded places with Morgan at the plate. "Yeah, the salaries are pretty incredible. But, you know, the game can't all be about the big salaries. I mean, making that kind of money is about managing power struggles. These guys have to tend to lose sight of the game when they're going through all that negotiating back and forth." Dante swung at the ball, hitting it low for a pop up fly. "Don't get me wrong, performance should be rewarded but not at the risk of corrupting or distracting from the game. Besides, remember A Rod admitted to juicing up when he was with Texas."

Morgan sneered and brushed off that little tidbit of information. "Ancient history, man. He wasn't fined or suspended or anything either. All he had to do was apologize."

Dante dug his heels into the ground, ready for the next pitch. "Yeah, it happened before the rules were in play but that doesn't make it okay, Morgan." He swung and hit. "Power that's won too easily ultimately isn't real power."

Still incredulous, Morgan scoffed, "Come on Dante, you mean to tell me that if someone offered you a shot at an easy promotion, a fast way up the ranks to a position where you were the boss, earning as much as you could spend, you wouldn't snap it up?"

Dante shook his head. "I'd eat chili from a can every night for the rest of my life before I did that."

"Hey, don't knock canned chili. My mom makes that for us all the time." Morgan's tone relaxed and he gazed at Dante with a glint in his eyes.

Dante laughed. "Well, with my mom's cooking and bringing over casseroles all the damn time, I'd never really ever have to eat canned chili, but that's not really my point." He grew serious and focused intently on Morgan. "Look. Playing the game, any game, is about honesty and integrity. So that at the end of the day you can rest your head on your pillow knowing you've put in an honest day's work and can sleep with a clean conscience."

Morgan's defenses went back up. "Yeah, I've heard that 'integrity' word being thrown around a lot. Is it really fair for us, though, to expect these guys to be better than us? Doesn't setting them up as heroes just set them up to fall further?" He looked down at the plate and knocked his bat against it, stirring up a cloud of dust. "Besides, all the business of salaries and drugs makes these guys more human and more interesting in the long run. Sure, you can dream about living the high life like them. But really how many of us will ever have that chance? There's nothing wrong with making money or wanting to make money, Dante. Isn't the goal always going to be to maximize profits?"

Dante sighed deeply but couldn't help but to grin. "Where the hell do you pick up this language? Oh, let me guess: you've been hanging out with Molly again, haven't you." He continued, "All I'm saying is that there's more to it than the bottom line. Neither you nor I would love this game if all it was about was the bottom line. Now, did we come here to gossip about ball players or to play ball? I have yet to see you hit one on the sweet spot."

Morgan shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, yeah. Sweet spot, right. It'll be a while before I have arms like yours Dante."

"It's not about the arms, Morgan. It's about keeping your center of gravity and working the swing with your entire body. It's not about strength, man; it's about agility and endurance."

Morgan murmured under a bashful smile, "Yeah, that's what she said."

Dante let out a loud chortle. He grinned widely and stared at his brother in disbelief. Barely able to control his laughter, he asked, "Where did you get that? Do you even know what that means?"

Morgan's smile grew shyer and he mumbled, "Heard some guys say it."

"And do you know what it means?"

Morgan began to blush. "Nah, not really."

Dante reached out to his brother and ruffled his hair. He took the bat out of Morgan's hands and breathed, "Soon enough buddy, soon enough."

Dante stood ready for the next ball with a big grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. It felt incredible to be able to reach out to this kid, his new-found brother. Sharing laughter really was the only way, wasn't it? For once, their interaction felt effortless, like there was no expectation, no baggage.

He hit the incoming ball hard, the impact sounding like a gunshot. The resulting vibration of the bat moved up Dante's arms and across his chest. He impulsively dropped the bat and grabbed his chest, recoiling in pain.

Morgan saw the distress on Dante's face and winced sympathetically. He reached out to gingerly tug at Dante's elbow. "It still hurts?"

Dante cringed through the pain. "Nah, not really. This is just the first real exercise I've had since..." He drew a deep breath and noticing Morgan's worried expression, straightened his back. "I'll be fine."

Morgan grew quiet. "You know, for what it's worth, I'm really sorry about what happened to you. You know if Dad had known you were his son, he would have never pulled the trigger."

Having heard it all before, Dante had no response left but to nod and frown. His mind went back to the dream he had when he was knocked out during the surgery. The dream of a boy that looked like Morgan swinging a stickball bat on a street in Brooklyn when a limo with a well-dressed stranger pulled up, a stranger that Morgan...Dante...had to stop. Stop before he hurt any more people. And then that stranger savagely, blindly, pulled a gun on that boy playing stickball on the street and shot him where he stood. No, Sonny hadn't meant to shoot Dante. Then again, he never meant anything, did he?

Dante banished the pain in his chest with a firm thump against his breastbone. He resumed position at bat and proceeded to snap a hit that sent the ball in a perfectly arched trajectory over the pitching mound and beyond.

Morgan looked on in awe. "Whoa. Now, that's a hit that would have taken out a windshield in the parking lot behind the left field bullpen."

Dante laughed softly as he handed the bat to Morgan. "Yeah, now how's about you aim for the windshields parked along the highway _outside_ the parking lot?"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Wow, it's been since April since I updated this! Due to renewed interest now that The One is back on the show, and because this really does have a plot with a conclusion in my head, here I am picking it back up. Thanks to the readers who encouraged me to do so. Enjoy! And review please!**

**Chapter 10**

Dante was standing in front of his dresser when he heard a knock at the door. He quickly picked out a shirt and eased his arms into it, leaving it unbuttoned as he answered the door.

It was Sonny.

Dante frowned and flattened his hand against the door frame to shut it in his father's face.

Sonny held his arm out to block the door and walked in. He mumbled, "Give me a minute, okay. I won't take much of your time, I promise." Sonny's gaze pleaded permission from Dante. Then his eyes went to Dante's chest. His jaw dropped and his eyes grew misty. He cleared his throat, looked away briefly and looked again squarely at his son's face.

He pointed to the scar on Dante's chest and said, "I'm sorry about that. You have to know, if I'd known… It brings me a lot of pain to see what I did to you."

Dante quickly turned his back and buttoned up his shirt. Unmoved by Sonny's words, his back still turned, he mumbled beneath a bitter laugh, "Not as much pain as it brought me."

He turned around to face Sonny and asked, "Have you ever been shot?"

Sonny took another step into the room. "Yeah, more times than I remember. I've seen men get shot. Jason and even my own father. But nothing, absolutely nothing in the world compares to seeing a child of mine get hurt. You want to take hot pokers to your eyes it hurts so much. So you have to know, as my son, I would never purposely, knowingly hurt you. It'd be like hurting myself, only ten times worse."

Dante waved his arms in the air and glared at his father. "Well, guess what, Sonny, what you did to me was not about you."

"I just want you to know, I would never have hurt you knowing you were my son."

Dante's jaw clenched as he heard the meaningless tripe coming forth from Sonny yet again. He exhaled and released the fists his hands had become. With gritted teeth, he said, "But you did know you were shooting a cop."

Sonny continued his dance. "It's about survival Dante. I did what I had to do to survive."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dante said, "I wasn't going to hurt you, I didn't have a weapon. How exactly was your survival threatened?"

"Come on Dante, let's not mince words here. You were going to drag me to jail. I couldn't let that happen without a fight could I? You betrayed my trust. I couldn't just let that go, could I?"

Dante barked an acerbic laugh. "And shooting to kill was your only solution? You didn't aim at my leg to wing me so you could make a run for it. You aimed straight at my chest, knowing the shot could kill me. You were going to kill me and then have the balls to think you could get away with it. Where does that come from Sonny? That arrogance. That utter disregard for human life."

Sonny shrugged and looked away from his son's glare.

Dante noted the weakness creeping into Sonny's shoulders, but fearing that he'd lose his momentum, he continued, "What happened to you? Hear my ma tell it, you used to be just another kid kicking cans, playing stickball, taking a wrench to the fire hydrants on hot summer days. What happened to that kid?"

Sonny sniffed, still avoiding Dante's gaze. He mumbled, "I had to leave the neighborhood. I did whatever it took so that I could leave and make something of myself."

Dante's voice momentarily acquired a note of tenderness. "Lots of kids leave the neighborhood and make something of themselves. Not everyone sells their soul though. When did you lose your soul?

"I mean, I've heard the story about Joe Scully and how he saved you and how you owed him for getting rid of your stepfather. There was a man like that in my life too, except on the right side of the law. You could say we both had strong male role models, men who we emulated and wanted to be like. I took after Lt. Poletti and became a cop and you took after Joe Scully and became a gangster.

"What about later Sonny. Wasn't there anyone who loved you and made you believe you could be better? Carly? Some other woman?"

Sonny coughed a bitter laugh. "Carly? Nah, she was the woman a man like me deserved. The only one she ever saved, or cared to save, was herself."

Sonny walked over to the window in Dante's room and stared down at the waterfront. "There was a woman. Once. She thought she could save me. And I almost let her." He shuddered away his thoughts and muttered. "But that ship sailed a long time ago."

He turned quickly towards Dante, and planting his feet firmly on the floor, resolutely declared, "Dante, there's something you need to know, about that woman I saw you with the other day. Brenda."

A loud knock at the door interrupted the conversation.

It was Ronnie. "Hey ya, D. Oh, I see you've got company. Of the familial variety," Ronnie said as eyed Sonny and gingerly entered the room.

Dante sniffed and looked from Ronnie back to Sonny. He held the door open and cleared a path to it. "Now, if you don't mind, Sonny. I think our conversation is over?"

Sonny raised his arm and started to speak but stopped. He walked towards the door and turned back, "We do need to talk, Dante. There's a lot of stuff that still needs to be said."

Dante breathed deeply and shrugged. What was he supposed to do with that? What response would be appropriate? What response was even possible to this stranger who was now his father? All he saw was a blind man. Deaf and dumb, too. Walking around with a helmet on head constructed of his own delusions. Delusions affirmed by everyone around him. Hell, the entire town was in on it, this game of propping up poor Sonny. Watching him, listening to him, was like watching a dog chase after its own tale. Dante didn't have any of that in him did he? This uncanny ability to block out all voices that didn't mesh with his own? Hell, no. He waited for his father to exit and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Sonny walked down through Kelly's and outside into the courtyard. There, Brenda stood with her back turned, hunched over her phone, concentrating on writing a text. She finished and turned around to see Sonny looking at her.

Brenda gazed at Sonny and smiled briefly. It was as if the smile sneaked out of her without her consent. As she saw him approaching her, her face regained its stoniness and her body clenched.

"Sonny, I can't talk right now. I have things I need to…" she started. Something in Sonny's expression stopped her. "You look like a dog that's just been kicked."

Sonny shrugged his shoulders and shifted his feet. With a note of apprehension in his voice, he asked, "Listen, can we talk for few minutes? Have you got some time to sit with me?"

Brenda stared at him for a bit and then gestured to the café table. Sonny pulled out her chair and then took his own seat.

He inhaled deeply and then stated, "I just got back from a visit to my son."

"Who? Michael? Morgan? Are they alright? Jason mentioned you were having some issues with your kids?"

Sonny shook his head from side to side. "No my son who lives right here at Kelly's. The man I saw you with the other day. Dante. He's my son."

Brenda laughed incredulously. "What? Dante? Wait, what? How?"

"Long story short, his mother and I had a relationship back in Bensonhurst when we were very young. He was born, I never knew. Until a few weeks ago."

Brenda's eyes grew wide with recognition and understanding. "Ah, and he's a cop with a hole in his chest the size of a golf ball. I get it. It all makes sense now."

"Yes, Brenda, I shot him," Sonny choked up on the words. "I shot my own son."

Brenda sat still a while, her fingers tapping her mouth, her gaze focused on something in the distance. She dropped her hands to the table and looked down at them, "There are so many things. Just so much I need to ask you. Things I need to know that I've never gotten a chance to ask. But then things like this arise. Pure unadulterated crap like this comes up. And when? When can I really ask you what I need to know?"

"What do you need to know Brenda? You know who I am. You know what I do. You know that 'pure unadulterated crap' like this is the reason I left you at the altar so many years ago. I never wanted any of this to touch you."

"But it was okay that it touches Carly. Tell me, how is she any stronger than me? It was okay to bring children into it. It was okay to indenture Jason for the rest of his life. Take a damaged boy like him and make him into a killer."

Sonny's eyes grew red and he had to avert his gaze. He kneaded his hands in front of him on the table. "I was with Carly because I couldn't be with you. I was with her because I didn't love her. I didn't think I deserved love."

A tear rolled down his cheek and he whispered, "I don't deserve love, right? Do you think I deserve love?"

Brenda grabbed Sonny's hands and held them tight in her own. "Oh, God, Sonny."

* * *

Olivia Falconeri walked along the docks holding an aluminum-foil-covered casserole dish twice the size of her own waist. She balanced the dish carefully as she moved aside to avoid the protruding legs of a burly man sitting on the dockside bench.

"Excuse me," she said with a small smile and nod.

"Braciole? With fresh tomatoes? A woman after my own heart." The man sniffed the air and kissed the tips of his meaty fingers at Olivia.

Olivia's smile widened and she said politely, "Great nose for food you got there. Just a little something I'm bringing for my son."

As the man rose from his seat, Olivia saw that even though he was not much taller than her, he seemed to tower over her. Maybe it was the large bald head beaded with sweat, fleshy face, and a body built like an aged longshoreman. She was momentarily repulsed by his demeanor and a little afraid now that he was standing and blocking her way to the stairs, but she remained polite and indulgent.

The man growled, "A hot number like you with a grown son? What a shame."

He started slowly walking closer and Olivia's immediate response was to hold the casserole up to her body like a shield. Her smile faded and she mumbled, "Excuse me." She looked down and tried to walk around the man.

The man did not budge from his position. Olivia boldly turned up her face to glare at him. With a louder voice, she sternly repeated, "Excuse me."

From the top of the stairs came the sound of her son's voice. "Everything okay, Ma?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Olivia entered Dante's room above Kelly's Diner with her arms full of food and eyes wide with apprehension. She placed the casserole on Dante's desk and, hands to hips, gazed at her boy.

"So, I wasn't sure you'd let me in with this, but I guess the smell of your ma's cooking was too much to resist?"

"Yeah, something like that, I guess," Dante shrugged. He found it difficult to make eye contact with his mother. He started tossing around some clothes, unwittingly straightened up the place.

"Look, Dante, I'm sure there's a lot you want to ask me. A lot I need to tell you. But the one thing you should know unequivocally is that I am your mother and I love you. Whatever I did, I did to protect you. There should be no doubt in your mind over that."

Dante coughed away the lump in this throat and mumbled, "I know, Ma."

He really didn't need to hear more. Of course, his world had been rocked with the revelation of his paternity. The news has set everything on end and made him question everything he had ever believed in. But the one thing he knew in his gut, even when he didn't in his brain, was that his mother would walk through fire for him. She'd done it all these years, raising him alone, providing the best of everything within her means. Sure, he could hate her for lying to him all these years. But where would that get him? It cut a hole in his gut remembering that he actually had thought that he had a father who didn't want him, had known about him, and had left him. But his mother hadn't been the one to put that fantasy in his head. The idea that he had been abandoned was of Dante's own making. All his mother had done for him was to give him a life full of family who loved him, a life free of fear.

"You look… better. Lots better since the hospital. Looks like you've been getting some sun too?"

"Yeah, I took Morgan out the other day to hit a few balls at the batting cage. I'm healing okay, Ma. Keeping up with my appointments."

Olivia nodded and smiled. She reached out carefully to touch her hand to her son's cheek, "That's real good to hear, baby."

She continued, "Look, I know you must be feeling awfully lonely these days. Have you considered going back to Brooklyn for a little while? Be around family and your friends back home, get some perspective?"

"Why, Ma? My cover's already been blown, why should I leave town now? Besides, I can't just leave you here alone. Sonny's in the clear. He's walking the streets a free man. There's no telling what kind of retaliation he has planned."

Frowning and with a strained voice Olivia pleaded, "Dante, Sonny would never hurt you or me. I know it's all confusing right now. I know you wanted to put him away for his crimes. But know, please, whatever kind of man he is, whatever terrible sins he's perpetrated, he would not hurt you, he will never hurt you again. And as for me, well, you don't have to worry. I've been taking care of myself for a long time now."

"Fine, Ma. I guess I'm just going to need some time wrapping my head around it all. That difference between the man who's a criminal and the man who's my father. You seem to see the line distinctly. I'm not so sure."

He thought for a moment and continued, "Besides, wasn't it your fear of him that kept you from telling me that he was my father in the first place?"

Olivia acknowledged the truth in Dante's rhetorical question with a nod. Her mouth trembled and Dante saw that she seemed to realize the lack of logic in her argument. He took her hand and squeezed it softly. "It's okay, Ma. I'm okay."

Dante breathed deeply and peeked under the foil wrapped over the casserole. His stomach growled audibly and he looked up furtively at his mother and half-smiled. With a hand on his stomach to quiet it, Dante started rummaging around for a paper plate and plastic fork. He dished out a helping of the succulent braciole for himself, licked a bit of errant sauce off his finger, and said, "Whatever the case, I'm not leaving town. Besides, I'm not as lonely as I look. I've got these new siblings I want to get to know. I think they want to get to know me too. Also, Ronnie may have some work for me. Nothing as glamorous as taking down the resident crime boss. But it'll be enough to pay the rent." He took a bite of the food and with his mouth full of braciole, he quietly added, "And there's a woman I met."

A smile crept over Olivia's face. With raised eyebrows she said, "Ah, a woman. Anyone I know? Someone new?"

"I don't know, Ma. She's new in town. Used to live here before though." Finishing his mouthful of food, he pulled up a chair in front of the desk, sat down and hunched over his plate to give it more of the attention it deserved. "Don't be planning any calls to the family just yet. She's just someone I think I want to get to know better, that's all."

"She got a name?"

"Brenda. Brenda Barrett."

* * *

Sam sat behind her desk at the private investigator office she shared with Spinelli. She tapped furiously and pointlessly at the keys on her laptop and stared at the screen in exasperation.

Spinelli skipped into the office, his head bopping to music emanating from the headphones over his ears. He extricated himself from the messenger bag holding his laptop, opened the bag and set the laptop up on his desk before noticing some movement in this peripheral vision. He flinched and turned quickly to finally notice Sam at her desk.

"Oh, Fair Samantha. What a pleasant surprise to find you at your desk this fine day. To what do we owe this flourish of interest in the workings of this petty investigatory service we share equal ownership of?"

Sam sighed, and, still looking at her computer screen, muttered, "Just working on something Spinelli." She stopped tapping and looked up pleadingly. "Maybe you could help?"

"Why, of course, I am at your service. Speak."

"It's a real stretch. I don't have much to go on. And I really have no clue where to even start. I'm looking for someone. All I have is a first name, a general location and a general time frame."

"That sounds stretchy indeed, but let's have a go. May I ask to what case this is linked?"

"It's not a case, Spinelli. It's personal. I'll spare you the particulars. Just, can I ask you right now before we even start? I don't want Jason to know about this, okay?"

"Well, you are my business partner, not Stone Cold, so my allegiance, at least in this office, is to you. However, I'd be remiss in not asserting that it is a fool's quest indeed to try to keep anything from Stone Cold. He knows all and sees all. Particularly in matters that concern those he is the most fond of such as your fair self."

"Let's just try, okay. We probably won't turn up anything anyway. I promise I'll tell Jason once I know…anything."

"Agreed. Fine then, my machine is booted up and ready to go, let's proceed. What is the name you seek to find?" Spinelli cracked his knuckles and poised his fingers over his keyboard.

"I've got a first name. Ray. Or Rudy. The time frame. Let's see. May, 1980 minus nine months," she scrunched up her eyes and put a hand to her forehead, visibly struggling to do the math.

"September. 1979." Spinelli had already punched the numbers into his computer. Without looking up from his keyboard he asked, "Location?"

"Somewhere around Sacred Heart Academy for Girls in New Hampshire. A college or university around there?" Sam looked up at Spinelli, wide-eyed and anxious.

"That is, indeed, very little to go on. However, my Jackaling skills have been tested and proven victorious with much less in the past, and I remain hopeful." Spinelli tapped at his keyboard and shook his head from side to side. After many keystrokes, he raised his hands in the air, checked his work, and hit the enter key.

Looking up at Sam, he said, "It'll take a minute or two for my query to spider through the ether. Meanwhile, if there are any other particular details you can think of that would allow us to narrow down the multitude of hits we will no doubt be getting from this search? Some distinguishing features of this sought after…Rudy. Any notable remarks on his appearance, perhaps?"

Sam frowned and furrowed her brow in concentration. She shrugged her shoulders and squeezed her arms together in front of her. "He's probably kind of short, dark hair, dark eyes, possibly in his early to mid-50's?"

"Ah-ha," Spinelli muttered as he struck more keys. Both he and Sam tapped their fingers on their respective desks while Spinelli's computer did its magic.

Scanning the screen of results, Spinelli's eyes locked onto something specific and went wide with surprise. He pursed his lips and looked inquisitively at the screen.

"Well, this is curious." He tapped more keys. "Curious, indeed."

Sam rose from her seat and walked over to Spinelli's desk. "What? What is it?"

Spinelli looked at the screen again and began, "Fortuitously, although the Northeast is resplendent, virtually littered, with many institutes of higher learning, Sacred Heart Academy for Girls is nested in such an area that there is only one small liberal arts college nearby. Although, perhaps, come to think of it, not fortuitous at all, but purposefully so, as a girls' boarding school near too many co-ed dorms is a post-pubescent conjugal disaster of epic proportions just waiting to happen."

Sam raised her hand to direct Spinelli's attention back on track. "Let's focus here, Spinelli. What exactly did you find?"

"My query yielded a visitor's log to a college in New Hampshire in the time frame you speak of. Usually colleges do not scan such things to keep for their records, but it being the late seventies and a time of some minor civil unrest, albeit nothing compared to the unrest of the decade prior, and potentially dramatically shifting leadership in this country, perhaps due to the Iran Hostage Crisis, one can only guess, this particular college did indeed scan all of their visitor logs and one such log from September 1979 does indeed display the scrawled name of Rudy." Spinelli paused to scrutinize Sam's face. His voice grew soft and careful as he continued, "The last name is one that, I fear, we will find all too familiar, and one that I can assure you Stone Cold will beg to be apprised of. A name that is shared by our very own resident doyens of the dark, one recently expired and the other avowed to avenge her death."

A dark shadow passed over Sam's face. With a timorous voice, she asked, "What's the last name?"

"Zacchara. The full name is Ray (Rudy) Zacchara."

* * *

"I know, Robin. I did get all your texts." Brenda stood on Elm St. Pier, holding her phone to her ear and staring nervously into the distance. "Yes, I'll come in as soon as I can… I know…You know me and decision-making, Robin. Not exactly my forte… Yes, we do need to discuss this in person…Alright, I'm on my way."

Brenda closed the phone and looked down at it, her face twisted with dread. She turned quickly to walk up the stairs and saw Dante looking down at her, poised to walk down to the pier.

"Hey," Dante said softly as he walked down to meet her at water's edge. He perused her face and his eyes went to her hair, a tendril of which was hanging just over her eyes. He found his hand yearning, practically aching, to reach up and move the wisp of hair away from her face. Instead, he licked his lips and smiled awkwardly.

"I'm glad I ran into you." Dante reached inside the pocket of his jeans. "I found something I wanted to give you."

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a flat piece of blue glass. Circular in shape with a rough-hewn exterior, the glass nestled perfectly in Dante's palm as he held it out for Brenda.

"Oh, Roman glass!" Brenda's mouth went wide, her eyes lit up, and she smiled broadly.

Dante gazed at the miraculous openness of her smile and found himself involuntarily beaming back at her. "Yeah, we picked it up on one of our trips to the city," he said. "I think it's from the gift shop at the Met."

"I remember. Your mother used to take you into the city, you said?"

"I know it's kind of strange me giving you something from Rome when you're the one who used to live there. Just thought you might like it. As a reminder or something." Dante drew closer to Brenda. He took her hand, opened the palm and dropped the glass into it.

Brenda rolled the glass around in her hand and caressed it with her fingers. She held it up to the light and let out a slight gasp as she remarked, "Look! You see how it's reflecting both the water and the sun bouncing off of the water?"

She let the weight of the glass settle into her hand and grinned at Dante. "There was a place in Rome, not far from my apartment, that had bits of Roman glass on display and I would sometimes go out of my way to walk by it, particularly on sunny days, just to see all the fantastic colors of the glass play with the sun. Blue-hued white with little speckled black inclusions, and, ones like this one, deep Cerulean blue with bits of plum colored inclusions."

Brenda looked down at the glass and paused. Her smile dropped a bit as she asked, "So I think I ran into your mother earlier. At Kelly's. Her name's Olivia, right? Boy, she must have had you when she was real young."

More than noting how the sun and water bounced off the glass, Dante had been enraptured examining how the light in Brenda's eyes seemed to dance. It was fascinating watching and he found his heart skipping a beat with every change, lift and fall, opening and closing, of Brenda's face. Somewhat disappointed that the dancing had slowed, Dante sighed, "Yeah, she had me when she was 15."

"Wow," Brenda murmured.

Dante nodded, "Yep, she was my hero."

Brenda looked back down at the glass in her hand. "Your mother gave this to you?" She held it away from herself and said, "Then I can't possibly take it."

Dante took the glass but held on to Brenda's hand and gently but urgently pulled her closer. He searched her face for some sign. Something that would tell him she was feeling the same hunger, the same pull, he was. His hand went to her hair and he allowed it to tickle his fingertips. The sensation evoked a soft growl to escape his throat and he leaned in closer to her mouth.

Brenda put a hand to Dante's face and traced the corner of his mouth with the tip of her thumb. With her other hand she grabbed his hand nestled in her hair, squeezed it lightly and pushed it away.

"I'm sorry. I can't," she whispered. "Not now."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading. Comments always appreciated!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Olivia walked into her apartment empty-handed. In the trembling rush and anxiety of cooking for and feeding her son, she had failed to make any plans for her own dinner. She hadn't had a bite to eat all day, but after seeing Dante and seeing that he was okay and moving on with his life, and seeing him enjoy the braciole she made for him, her own appetite seemed strangely satiated. Chances were high that there was something in the fridge and pantry she could whip up on a moment's notice. But she just didn't feel like it, and, instead poured herself a glass of pinot and collapsed on the couch. Just as she was about to put her feet up, the doorbell rang. Wine glass in hand, Olivia went to answer it and found Johnny standing on the other side holding a pizza box.

"Delivery for Ms. Falconeri?" Johnny asked beneath a sly grin and eyes alight with mischief.

Olivia smirked and opened the door wide; her hand crept up high on the edge of the door. "Well, I wasn't expecting delivery. But I'll buy what you're selling. Unfortunately I'm flush out of cash at the moment. How ever will I pay for this pizza?"

Johnny moved the pizza box lower against his body and growled, "I'm sure we can think of something."

He entered the apartment, put the box down on Olivia's coffee table, turned around and drew her into a deep kiss, nearly spilling the wine sloshing around in her goblet.

"Easy there, fella, before I drop this fine pinot all over my white carpet," Olivia said. She put her glass down and pulled Johnny back into her arms for an even deeper kiss.

"If that's the way you feel about things, Ms. Falconeri, I probably should let you know that I had the place wrap up a couple of fresh zeppole for dessert. They're steaming away in that box as we speak."

Olivia laughed heartily, and, taking Johnny's hand pulled him down to the couch. She put a hand to his face and in mock seriousness said, "Now, steaming hot zeppole. How did you know they are my absolute favorite?"

Johnny traced her face with a fingertip and said softly, "What a sight your smiling luminous face is for sore eyes."

Noting his shift in mood, Olivia gazed into Johnny's face and asked, "No word yet? No leads on what happened to Claudia?"

"Nah," Johnny sighed, his eyes focused on Olivia's hairline, a finger idly touching her hair. "And I don't think there will be. Maybe it's just as well. She's gone, dead or not, she's gone, has been for a long time actually."

"Johnny, I'm sorry you're going through this. And I'm sorry for your loss. She was your sister. This has to sting, I know." Olivia squeezed Johnny's knee gently. Then she turned toward him and with her hand held over his heart, she said quietly, "Say she is still alive. Is there family she could have gone back to, back in Italy, or wherever else she used to live?"

"She stayed with our Uncle Rudy in Italy," Johnny hands fell to rest on Olivia's legs. "She always spoke so highly of him, of how he had all this great advice for her, ways to make it in the business. But, truth be told, from what I remember of the man, he's not one to blink an eye over her disappearance. As long as his own concerns weren't affected, that is."

Olivia visibly cringed at the thought of such ruthlessness and self-interest. It was bizarre to her how some people could behave like wolves, even with those they were connected to by blood. It was so far out of her own realm of experience, yet, she understood it. Even though she'd never felt it herself, she understood the pull of power. She watched kids in the neighborhood succumb to it. Kids like Sonny. Till now, she'd understood it only as a detached observer. But now with Johnny in her life, she knew that darkness was closer. She wanted more than anything to be that ray of light, a life raft for Johnny to hold on to keep from sinking into the legacy his family left him.

"Tell me more about this Uncle Rudy. Do you think, that if his interests are at stake, that he'd ever come looking for Claudia?"

"What's to tell? He's a barbarian, as far as I recall. Not too bright. Not half as smart as my father. I guess Claudia must have thought his lack of intellect afforded him more heart. But I seriously doubt that was the case. He's lived in Rome for as long as I can remember. I might have a picture of him somewhere if you're really interested." Johnny looked suspiciously down at Olivia. "Can I ask why you're interested?"

"I'm interested in everything about you Johnny. It seems that with all the crap going down around us, we've barely had a chance to know each other's history. There's family I want you to meet. And even if your family is a source of pain for you and you probably don't want me to meet them, I still want to know about them."

Johnny smiled at the idea that Olivia thought of him as a man she could take home to show off to her relatives. He held her close and kissed her gently on her forehead.

Olivia took a sip of her wine and knelt into Johnny's chest, a look of peaceful satisfaction on her face.

* * *

Brenda sat in Patrick's office on a chair in the middle of the room. Patrick had come out from behind his desk to sit next to her. And on her other side sat Robin.

"We can use targeted drug therapy that should hit the biggest areas of the tumor. The fact that it is growing at such a rate means that we may have to try a few different drug cocktails," Robin said.

"It's in an area of the brain that's very difficult to get to surgically," Patrick said. "But we can certainly try exploratory surgery to ablate the regions that are growing, even if we can't get to the main body of the tumor."

"I'm recommending a course of radiation and chemotherapy. We have to start immediately and aggressively to curtail growth as much as we can," Robin said.

"But first let's do as many scans as we can and try to see if we can plan a course of surgical action, should you choose to go that route."

Brenda stared out the window behind Patrick's desk, at the skyline silhouetted against the most beautiful sunset she'd seen in ages. Her closest friend spoke in one ear and her friend's husband spoke into the other and Brenda could barely make out any of what they were saying above the blood pounding in both her ears.

She snapped out of her reverie just long enough to remark, "Scans? More scans? I thought the results of the scans were what we're talking about here."

"We're just trying to give you as many options as we can, Brenda," Patrick said in a voice laden with kindness and concern.

Brenda's eyes went back to focusing on the skyline. She wanted more than anything to let the pulse of the city, the flickering lights indicating life teeming all around her and the incandesence of the sunset, block out the very first words they had spoken to her: "It's a tumor, a malignant tumor."

* * *

Dante walked into an empty Kelly's diner to see Brenda hunched over the juke box. He continued walking, hoping she didn't hear or see him behind her. The failed contact with Brenda from earlier had left him hurt and confused. Had he failed to read some sign? Was his radar so off that he had not seen that she wasn't interested in him at all? He didn't want to deal with the questions tonight. He just wanted to lay his head down and sleep. Dante didn't have the energy for the chase. When had his energy become so depleted? Wasn't he too young to feel this tired? Especially when it was this marvelously beautiful and emotionally generous woman as the prize standing before him so close, yet still so far away? Should he be trying harder?

He had nearly made it to the stairs undetected when Brenda turned and saw him. Dante saw that her eyes were red and swollen and her hair, that lustrous violet auburn shock of hair, was more disheveled than usual. His natural impulse was to turn completely to her and open his arms, gesturing his concern. Asking with his body if she was okay, did she need anything?

Brenda gazed at him under hooded eyes. They stood like that for several seconds until she finally spoke. "Look, I don't want to give you mixed messages. There is so much about me you don't know. I just want you to know, it's not you, you're perfect. You really are." She trailed off and started shifting her feet in front of the juke box.

Dante felt her words had given him permission to move closer. "I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for. I just think you're…beautiful," he breathed. "I mean, you have no idea what the little time we've spent together has done for me. Helped me to move forward and heal. I thought you felt….something…for me too. But if you don't, I'm certainly not going to push it."

"Oh my God, you sound just like him," Brenda said rapidly.

"What? Who do I sound like?"

Brenda inhaled deeply and turned back to the juke box. She searched the choices and mumbled, "Do you have a quarter?"

Dante reached in his pocket and gave her a coin. She put the coin in the jukebox and pressed some buttons. Then she turned back to him and with eyes lowered she asked, "Will you please dance with me? Let's just forget this conversation. Let's just forget all conversation. Can you just dance with me, please?"

A voice came from the jukebox. The low, deep, somewhat androgynous vibrato of Nina Simone.

_"Black is the color of my true love's hair_  
_His face so soft and wondrous fair"_

Brenda tilted her face up at Dante and reached out her hands. He took her hands in his and pulled her close. He reached one arm around her waist and placed one of her hands on his shoulder while he held the other one close to his chest. They started rocking slowly.

_"The purest eyes_  
_and the strongest hands_  
_I love the ground on where he stands_  
_I love the ground on where he stands"_

Brenda nuzzled her face into Dante's neck and closed her eyes. Feeling her pull tighter into the embrace, Dante nestled his face in her hair, absorbing the heady scent and sensation of it against his skin. It was more than he could stand.

_"Black is the color of my true love's hair_  
_Of my true love's hair_  
_Of my true love's hair _

_Oh I love my lover_  
_and where he goes_  
_yes, I love the ground on where he goes_  
_And still I hope_  
_that the time will come_  
_when he and I will be as one_  
_when he and I will be as one"_

Dante pulled back to take Brenda's face in his hands. He pushed her hair out of her eyes, gazed deeply into her face, and placed his mouth on hers in a deep kiss. Brenda held Dante's wrists and started to push him away, but resisted her own impulse as she closed her eyes tightly and succumbed to the kiss, melting in his arms.

_"So black is the color of my true love's hair_  
_Black is the color of my true love's hair_  
_Black is the color of my true love's hair"_

Brenda let out a small squeak as Dante softly growled and lifted her up, his lips still sealed over hers. She straddled his hips, lost completely in the solidness of him, returning the unrestrained abandon of his embrace, as he carried her up the stairs.

A/N Thank you for reading. Great to see the numbers go up on the people visiting this story. Do you love it, do you hate it? I'd love to know.


	13. Chapter 13

** A/N Wow, nice spike in readership with the last chapter! Thanks! I guess the idea of this pairing does appeal to some of you. My all time favorite characters on this show have been Brenda and, now, Dante. So I couldn't resist imagining a pairing. I have to confess though, that despite whatever comes up in this story, I'm still a pretty hardcore SnB fan. But this is an alternative universe is many ways, that included. Now that Brenda is back on screen, this story is veering into being more about her. And I want to give her material she's not getting (and probably won't be getting) on screen. Maybe "Dante's Skin" should have the subtitle "Brenda's Hair". LOL. This particular chapter is one where Dante has a day off (and we get a wee bit of both Brazen and Liason). :) Anonymous reviews are welcome. I really would love to hear what you all think! So hit that review button at the bottom and tell me!**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Momentarily catching her reflection on a computer monitor in the hospital hallway, Brenda stopped to look at herself. She reached up to adjust the cap on her head. She ran her fingers through the hair not covered by the cap and frowned at her image reflected on the screen. It had been a week since Robin and Patrick had given her the news about her prognosis. She had agreed to the surgery and surreptitiously gotten the entire thing over with as soon as possible, getting assurances from Robin and Patrick that her treatment would remain confidential. Brenda knew, however, that in this hospital no one's health issues stayed secret for long. So she steeled herself for going out into the fray, preparing for the onslaught of well-wishers, bitterly realizing too late that Port Charles was the wrong destination for a person who wanted nothing more than to be left alone. As she turned a corner to walk towards the nurse's hub, she caught sight of a child, a little boy with spiky blond hair, standing alone in the hallway.

Brenda stooped down to speak to the boy. "Hi there. Are you lost?" She smiled brightly with eyes full of concern. The boy stared blankly at her and blinked. Brenda continued to look quizzically at the boy and, realizing he wasn't going to respond to her, she rose from her kneeled position to look for someone at the nurses' station to help. Everyone in the hub was busy at their computers or flipping through charts. But behind the hub she saw someone dressed in scrubs running towards them. She immediately recognized the running figure as Elizabeth Webber.

"Jakey, here you are! What did Mommy say about running away in public places?" Liz breathlessly took the boy in her arms and examined him from head to toe. She then looked up at Brenda. "Oh, hello, Brenda. I don't know if you remember me? Elizabeth Webber?"

"Of course I remember you! Lizzie the artist. Lucky's girl," Brenda beamed a smile at Liz and then looked down at the little boy. "Is he yours? He's adorable."

Liz returned Brenda's smile, but Brenda could tell she'd hit a sore spot, perhaps reminding Liz of two features of her younger self that she'd lost somewhere since the last time Brenda was in town. "Well, I'm a nurse now. Yes, this is Jake."

Brenda gazed down at the boy, and waved. "Hi, Jake!" When she looked back up, her eyes went to something behind Liz. Jason was exiting the elevator. He caught Brenda's eye and hesitated a few feet away, visibly wary of getting closer. Brenda's smile changed to a look of puzzlement as she saw Jason standing frozen. She looked down at Jake, scanning his face, noting his eyes, the spiky blonde hair. Then her eyes went to Liz, who had turned around to see Jason. Brenda was confounded by the changes in body language in both Liz and Jason. It was as if a serpent had been released in the room and everyone had to stand tense, still, not even allowing their breath to move. She looked quizzically again at Jason and at Liz, and finally rested her eyes back on Jake. She gasped a rapid intake of breath as if something had dawned on her.

Jason stepped closer and he and Elizabeth exchanged mumbled hellos. He then looked down at Jake and his eyes became liquid soft and a quiet smile pulled at his face. "Hey, Jakey," he said. "Look how big you're getting."

Elizabeth cupped a hand over the boy's head and tucked him closer to her. She then looked at Brenda and said, "It was good running into you Brenda. I'm so sorry about…" Liz's voice drifted off as her eyes shifted between Brenda and Jason. "…well, you know. I guess we'll be seeing more of you around here? Doctor Drake gave me a heads up on what to expect."

Brenda, who had been gazing at Jake the entire time, was jolted out of her thoughts and hurriedly said, "Yes, yes, of course. I'll see you later, Liz."

Jason and Brenda both watched as Elizabeth walked away with Jake's hand firmly gripped in hers. Brenda then quickly turned to Jason, grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the sitting area away from the hub. He struggled a bit, but she held tight to his arm. Through gritted teeth she said, "Come on. I don't have the strength right now, Jason. Just come here where I can talk to you. Now!"

Once they were a safe distance away, Brenda leaned in close to Jason and hissed, "He's yours, isn't he. That little boy. That sweet spiky-haired blue-eyed little boy. He's yours, Jason?"

Jason's mouth opened but no words came out. So Brenda spoke for him. "He's yours and you gave him up to protect him. My God, Jason." Brenda's hands went to her temples and she had to sit down. She pulled Jason down on the couch next to her and continued, "You actually chose this life. This so-called life you live as Sonny's go-to boy, over that darling child? How, Jason? How is that even possible?"

"Look, Brenda, it's a long story. You don't know…" Jason started while Brenda spoke over him. "Sonny left me to protect me. He left me shattered, so he could go on with his life and not have to worry about my safety. That was bad, but this? This is far, far worse, Jason. So much infinitely worse. How can you give up your child, Jason?"

"Enough, Brenda," Jason stared sternly into Brenda's face. "You don't know what you're talking about. You have no idea. You don't know how hard we tried. Elizabeth and I tried to make it work. I set her up with the boys in a safe house. I wanted it desperately to work, Brenda. But it was too hard. On Liz, on her kids. She wanted more and she deserves more." He stopped to take a breath. Looking down at his hands, he quietly stated, "You have no idea how my heart breaks every time I run into him."

Brenda took Jason's hands and tears welled up in her eyes. "First Michael, who wasn't even yours, handed over for you to fall in love with and then snatched away just as unthinkingly, and now this. Oh, Jason." She sighed and continued. "So has it worked? Has Jake been safe and free from harm without you in his life?" Jason stared blankly into the distance, leaving Brenda to again guess his answer. "Yeah, I didn't think so. When is this madness going to end, Jason?"

Jason inhaled deeply and blew out a loud exhale. "I don't have an answer for that." He looked at Brenda, and, as if noting it for the first time since seeing her, pointed to the cap on her head. "Isn't it kind of warm for that?"

Brenda tugged at the cap self-consciously and said, "Since when do you have an opinion on my fashion choices?"

Jason smiled and looked earnestly at Brenda. "She didn't give me any details, but Robin called me and told me you could use a friend right now. And she told me you'd be here. I came here to see you Brenda. Do you want to tell me what's going on? There's something…different…about your face, your hair."

"I've been sick Jase, but, thanks to Robin and Patrick, I may be getting better," Brenda said quietly. "We're just waiting and watching at this point."

"Is there anything you need from me? Anything I can do to help you?" Jason asked.

Brenda giggled lightly and shook her head. "No Jason, this isn't something you can fix." She looked down at her hands and hesitated before saying, "You can tell Sonny, too. There's nothing I need from him either."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"Yeah, we had a nice chat," Brenda said sarcastically. "He told me…about Dante."

"So you know Dante is Sonny's son?"

"Yeah, I know." Brenda sighed. "Crazy, right?" Her back stiffened and she sat up straight, her face becoming tight and angry. "And I also know he shot Dante. In cold blood, looking him straight in the eyes, Sonny shot an unarmed cop."

Jason sighed and asked, "So have you been spending a lot of time with Dante?"

"Yeah, you could say that. We run into each other a lot at Kelly's." Brenda made motions to evade as much of Jason's questioning as she could.

Jason tried to follow Brenda's deflection and peered curiously at her. "And that's not all, is it? You're not just 'running into each other', are you." Jason stated his question as if it were a fact, and he had already determined the answer.

"Look, Jason. What I do or don't do with Dante is really none of your business," Brenda said. She started to gather herself up to rise off the couch. Jason held his hands up in exasperation and looked at her with disbelief. He started to say something, but was interrupted by his phone vibrating inside his pocket.

They both rose off the couch and Jason retrieved his phone and flipped it open. "Yeah, Spinelli. What is it?"

After listening for a bit, Jason's face twisted up in confusion. "Sam was researching who?" he asked. "Did she say why? Okay…alright…I'll be right there."

He turned back to Brenda and said gently, "Yeah, you're right, what you and Dante do is none of my business. I just want you to know…Brenda, you need to be with someone you can trust. No one knows better than me how badly you've been hurt in the past. By betrayal. You and Sonny both. Neither of you react well to being betrayed. I just want you to think about whether you can trust Dante. That's all."

Brenda frowned deeply and her mood shifted dramatically. She shook her head, baffled. "What are you talking about, Jason? Again, with the riddles. Me and Sonny both? What does that mean? No, no one reacts well to being betrayed. Since when is that some special thing Sonny and I have in common?" She sighed in exasperation and waved a hand around Jason's head. "I know things are scrambled up in there, but, man, you say the most confounding things sometimes."

Jason snorted derisively and turned his back on Brenda. As he walked away he waved back at her and said, "You have my number."

* * *

**A/N Thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

While digging through a shoebox full of pictures, Johnny Zacchara was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Sam.

"Well, hello," Johnny said as he opened the door. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Sam gazed wide-eyed at Johnny, scanning his face. She muttered, "I'm not entirely sure." Looking at the box of pictures she asked, "Are you busy? Can I come in?"

Johnny tucked the shoebox of pictures under his arm as he cleared a path into his apartment. "Nah, not busy. Just perusing through some family photos to show the girlfriend. Come on in." On his way to the bar, he dropped the box on the table behind his couch. At the bar, he started pouring himself a drink. He turned to Sam and asked, "Can I get you something?"

"No, no thanks." Sam ran her finger over the edge of the box that Johnny had just deposited and peered inside. Her efforts at doing so discretely were met with a snicker from Johnny.

"Interested in family pictures, are we?" Johnny asked through a smirk. "Don't tell me your boyfriend sent you here to nose around in my personal business."

"Come on, Johnny. You know Jason's not the type to send me on errands for him." Her finger did not leave the box and her examination of its contents became even more obvious. "I'm here for my own purposes." Sam reached into the box and pulled out a photo. "This man standing next to Claudia…" she started.

Johnny immediately grabbed the picture out of Sam's hand. He tucked it back into the box and closed the lid. "What the hell? Isn't it enough you people destroyed her. What, are you fishing around for some more dirt on her? Why are you here Sam?"

"Look, it's not what you think," Sam said. Her shoulders sunk and she looked at Johnny with an expression of remorse. "I came upon a piece of information that may have some…repercussions for you."

"Whoa, there. You turning in your boyfriend? Ratting him out as Claudia's murderer?" Johnny looked wide-eyed at Sam, incredulous that he may finally have the information he needed, some proof of what happened to his sister.

Sam frowned at Johnny, exasperated. "No, of course not! I'm not ratting anyone out." She inhaled deeply and continued. "This really has nothing to do with Claudia. At least not directly."

"This information I have may be just what we all need to call a truce on this battle you have waging with Jason and Sonny," Sam said.

"This battle I have waging, as you put it, is that your friends systematically destroyed my sister like she was some rabid animal that had to be put down. Unless you can tell me that didn't happen. Unless you can tell me Claudia isn't lying in a gutter somewhere or in a shallow grave in the Westchester Pine Barrens, I don't foresee any truce being reached." Johnny took an angry swig of his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is that why you're here? Do you have information on what happened to Claudia?"

"I told you, Johnny, this has nothing to do with that," Sam said. "This is about you…and me."

Johnny's face broke out in a lascivious grin. "You and me? Since when is there a you and me? Do I sense trouble in our penthouse paradise with Mr. Stone Cold?"

"No, Johnny! You idiot! I'm your cousin," Sam exclaimed. "That man in the picture with Claudia? He's Rudy Zacchara, right? Your uncle? Well, it just so happens, he's my… father."

Johnny's chin dropped and after a few seconds gaping at Sam, a realization dawned on his face. "Alright, I guess I kind of see it. The eyes. You've got his eyes." He started to ask something but stopped. Instead, he laughed contemptuously and poured himself another drink. After taking a gulp, he said, "Okay, then. We're cousins. We're family. And since you're so tight with Jason, my hands are essentially tied as far as pushing for information about Claudia." He released another bitter laugh. "Good old Uncle Rudy. Getting a girl knocked up and splitting the scene. My gene pool is just resplendent with heroes, ain't it?"

"There's more to the story than that, I think," Sam said. "For what it's worth, I don't think he knew I existed."

Johnny nodded as he looked down at his drink. The disdain in his eyes was slowly replaced by gentleness and he quietly asked, "So now what?"

Sam shrugged and sighed. At that moment her phone vibrated. She retrieved it, and flipping it open, spoke into it, "Yeah, thanks for returning my call so quickly. Are you home at the Lake House? I need to talk to you about something very important…I'll be right over." After hanging up the phone, she looked at Johnny and hoarsely remarked, "Well, first thing's first, now comes the job of telling my mother who my father is."

* * *

After Jason left her at the hospital, Brenda remained seated in the lobby behind the seventh floor nurse's station. She found herself too exhausted, her mind not able to focus enough to decide what to do next. She looked around for a magazine, some trashy reading material, celebrity gossip stories to distract her from the untamable whirlwind of thoughts bouncing around in her head. Unhappily, she found only a pile of business magazines. She picked up one and started idly flipping pages. Her eyes landed on one page, an article that made her stop cold. The headline read: "Rudy Zacchara Enterprises, premier Italian shipping magnate to open satellite in New York." Brenda's face twisted in a frown as she scanned the article. She flipped the page and was confronted by a picture that turned her frown into a look of disgust. She slammed the magazine shut and threw it back on the table. "What the hell was I thinking," she whispered to herself.

"Whoa, I hope it's not thoughts of me making you say that," said a voice above her. Dante descended the stairs and ambled towards her. Behind the half-smile on his face was a look of trepidation. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he took her in. Then, his eyes grew wide as he noticed the changes in Brenda's appearance. It had been a week since the dance at Kelly's, a week where Dante nursed his coffee for hours waiting for her to come down the stairs, a week where he stood outside her door hoping to hear her stirring. After that dance, and that night, he had woken up to an empty bed. She had seemingly vanished into thin air, and for the past week of not seeing her, he found his breath repeatedly catching at the thought that maybe she had left town, left just as unexpectedly as she had entered his life, gone from him so soon after he had just found her. Now seeing her for the first time since that night, his worse fears were somewhat assuaged, but an apprehension also tugged at him. Eyeing the cap on her head, her eyes sunken and sad, her hair just a bit less lustrous, it was obvious to Dante that something was wrong. He sat down next to her, gently put a hand on her knee and whispered, "Is everything okay?"

Brenda's mouth curved up into a smile but her eyes told a different story. She squeezed Dante's hand on her knee. "Hey," she said. "You must think I'm such a jerk for leaving like that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. You just surprised me. That night came as such a surprise. And then…" She shifted in her seat and her eyes dropped. "There's so much you don't know about me."

"You keep saying that. You do now, don't you, that I want to know, Brenda. You can tell me anything," Dante pleaded. He knew, that as genuine and open as Brenda was, she was still holding back something from him. Some vital bit of information that maybe she wasn't sure about herself, not sure enough to share with him. He blinked and his face changed, became more closed. His thumb, which had been unconsciously rubbing the outside of her knee, suddenly went still. "I mean, unless you don't trust me?"

"No, Dante. I do trust you." Brenda's hands went higher up Dante's arms and she drew him closer to her. One hand landed high on his neck and her thumb stroked his jaw, her eyes focused on where the collar of his shirt touched the skin of his neck. "My God, you are so…"

Brenda didn't get to finish her thought and was jostled out of her gaze of Dante's neck by Robin approaching. Robin stopped at a slight distance away from them and cleared her throat. She feigned a smile at Dante and waved clumsily before turning her eyes to focus intently on Brenda, her expression slightly shocked. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to interrupt," Robin began. "Brenda, can I steal you away for a minute? The biopsy is back from the lab and we need to discuss next steps."

Dante became confused. "Biopsy?" he asked quietly.

Brenda's hands dropped and she turned away from Dante. "Can we meet up later?" she asked. A hand impulsively went up to his face, and before touching him, dropped back down again. "We'll talk later, I promise."

Dante inhaled deeply and rose off the seat. After watching him walk away, Robin sat down next to Brenda. "You know who that is, don't you? He's Sonny's son, Brenda," she said, as if she was sharing some horrific secret.

"I know." Brenda sighed. "Let's not talk about that right now. You had some news about the biopsy?"

Robin shook her head and frowned. She steeled herself up as she flipped open the patient chart in her lap. "Yes, the pathology report came back. The tumor was identified as a high-grade glioma." Robin closed the chart, and, trying hard to maintain dispassionate, she looked at her friend. "Gliomas are the most aggressive kind of brain tumor. We have to get you started on chemo and develop a radiation protocol as soon as possible."

"So Patrick wasn't able to get all of it out?"

"No, Brenda," Robin replied, her voice catching in her throat. "Even if he had, high-grade gliomas almost always grow back even after complete surgical excision."

Brenda's face contorted in pain. She stared into the distance and started mumbling, "It was just headaches. It was supposed to be just migraines. How did this happen?"

Robin took both of Brenda's hands in hers and looked directly at her face. "This was nothing you did, Brenda. " Her voice cracked and she had to look away. "We're going to do everything in our power to make you better. "

"How long do I have? I mean, how much time is this going to take?"

"We won't know until we start the chemo and radiation and assess how well it's working. We're going to start you on a standard dose of Temozolomide. TMZ has been shown to successfully slow down progression of your kind of tumor. "Noting Brenda's perplexed expression, Robin changed her tone to one more personal. "You should plan to be here for the duration. You absolutely cannot risk flying on an airplane, or even driving. The chances of you having a seizure are pretty high right now so soon after surgery."

Brenda paused and slowly her face broke out in a smile. She threw her head back and laughed. Robin looked at her surprised but couldn't help but to smile herself. "What?" she asked.

Midst her laughter, Brenda said, "You know what I just thought of? You remember when you had that crush on Jason, way before Stone came along? And you asked me to take you shopping for a hot dress, so he would notice you? He was all mooning over Karen then, remember?" Robin's eyes flickered with the memory and they both smiled. Soon, Brenda's face grew serious and she continued, "When the hell did our lives get so complicated? I mean, really. Wasn't it yesterday I was driving you places? And now. Here you are, a doctor, telling me, your patient, that I can't drive because my head might explode. Absolutely crazy, isn't it?"

Robin's smile slowly faded and a single tear dropped from her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and said, "It's going to be really tough maintaining my objectivity through all this. Maybe you should have someone else manage your treatment?"

"Oh, hell no, Robin. I want you. I need my little sister to get me through this."

Robin nodded and tapped the patient chart on her knees. With renewed determination she opened the chart on her lap. "Alright, then, we'll schedule your first session of chemo for tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N Thank you for reading! Loving the notes saying you like the story! Usually about this time I'd be tired of the story and start to wrap it up, but I kind of really like the way this is unfolding. So, if you bear with me, I'm going to keep going as long as I can without driving you all (and myself) batty. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

A/N

Well, I never expected this little story to actually come to fruition on the show, but...it's kind of eery how parts of it have. Or else my fiction is just as predictable and formulaic as GH's. LOL. So Theo (who is rumored to be the Balkan) comes to the hospital complaining of the same tumor that I gave Brenda a couple weeks ago? Eery. Is some tptb actually reading this? JK! I know that glioblastoma is a pretty common type of brain tumor. Tehe.

Anyway, the reason I got into fanfic in the first place was to work out scenarios, couplings, situations that I did not foresee ever coming to the screen. I never saw the point in fics that just transcribe what's already happening the show. I'm here for the challenge of creating my own world for these known characters. And I urge my readers to know that this is a world in which Lulu and Dante never even got off the ground. So there is no cheating or duplicity going on here. Not on Dante's part, at least. ;)

I hope you guys are enjoying the story. I'd really like to hear from you! It's nice to see the numbers rack up but maybe it's just long author's notes like this that give the false impression this story is being read. :) If you can't comment here, feel free to drop me a tweet. I'm zarqa on twitter.

Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter 15**

The brief encounter with Brenda at the hospital left Dante more unsettled than he ever thought he'd be again since that revelatory first meeting on the docks. He felt wounded, frustrated, as if he'd been dismissed. It was obvious Brenda needed someone right now and for whatever reason, she wasn't choosing him. She was holding back something, and it wasn't just her health issues. The night they had shared had been extraordinary, awakening sensations in Dante that had been ignored for too long. It was in that wordless play of skin on skin where he was the most connected with this mysterious woman who had dropped out of nowhere into his life. The connection he felt that night elicited in him the insatiable need to connect with her on every other level imaginable. She was so open in so many ways, so willing to share her heart, her mind, her unbelievable body, yet there was still something about herself she was preserving, keeping to herself. He wanted her to trust him. And he didn't understand why she didn't.

Dante wanted to focus his energy on understanding Brenda and reaching her, but there were other concerns nagging at him as well, namely, his work. Since joining the PCPD, and essentially giving up on putting Sonny in prison, he was at a loss as to where he fit in into the department. Lucky was helping him along but Dante really needed a case of his own, something to prove his metal to his new bosses. Something as big and headline-generating as what he had intended to do to Sonny. The bullet was long gone from his chest, but the taste of cold steel still lingered in his mouth, the coldness and intractability of his legacy as Sonny Corinthos' son. Dante could continue to pursue Sonny, but somewhere deep inside, subconsciously, he knew that even if evidence against Sonny were handed to him on a silver platter, he's be conflicted on how to do his job effectively and objectively. Dante's connection to Sonny, however tenuous or forcibly subdued, would always be there. Dante had been compromised, not through any fault of his own or failure to do his job, but by the simple fact of genetics. A fresh case, a fresh win, a big win, would surely work to abate the bitterness of the many losses he'd already suffered at the hands of his father.

Ronnie had come by to show him just such a case and Dante was excited by the possibilities it presented. An Italian shipping mogul, with clear ties to the mafia, setting up shop in New York. Dante's job was to research information about the guy and keep an eye on his activities. For some bizarre reason, the police department failed to produce even a photograph of the guy, so Dante had his work cut out for him. The man's name, however, was available, loud and clear and loaded with potential: Rudy Zacchara.

He understood the restricted resources of the department due to budget cuts, but all the ways in which the PCPD was handicapped, their efforts seemingly sabotaged from the start, was baffling to Dante. The problem wasn't just a lack of money either, it was also an increasingly impulsive and hot-headed boss. Dante knew that at some point, Mac must have had the leadership skills and good instincts that landed him the job of Police Commissioner. But the boss he was now had his head perpetually in the sand, coupled with a total resistance to listening to the intuitions of the detectives in his department. It was bizarre and very frustrating. Dante could go to his sources at the NYPD but there was always an element of embarassment in doing so. His failure to capture Sonny after so much time and effort spent undercover was a sore spot for many back in New York, particularly the bosses that had allowed him to pursue such a big case in the first place. Come to think of it, maybe those bosses weren't all that different from the boss he had now. Hadn't they been just as intractable and stubborn? Going to them now to get a resource as piddling as a picture of a known criminal would make him appear even more incompetent than he already felt.

Dante sensed that ultimately he may have to finagle his way back into Spinelli's good graces and seek his expertise. As much as that kid was loyal to his boss, he always seemed to light up when offered the prospect of working on a good mystery. Dante may just be able to appeal to Spinelli's inherent sleuthing tendencies and get the information he needed.

He drew out his phone to make a call, but thinking better of it, decided it may be wiser to just pay an unannounced visit to Spinelli at his PI office. Dante started walking to the office when he was stopped by Sonny walking in the opposite direction.

Sonny smiled briefly, seemingly unconsciously, as Dante approached him. Then he conspicuously let the smile drop as his eyes grew wide with anticipation. Dante sensed a breathlessness come over this man everytime they met. The sensation was familiar to him because Dante felt the same thing whenever his mother looked at him. An eagerness and insatiable desire to reach out, something only a parent can feel for a child. Olivia manifest this feeling with the motherly touches to Dante's face that she seemed powerless to stop, no matter how old he got and far he moved away. And Sonny? Well, his eyes invariably always locked on Dante's face, gazing at it, hopeful, regretful, and needy. Dante wasn't anxiously waiting for Sonny to express regret over shooting him point blank, but somewhere in his heart, in both their hearts, in a place resistant to words or even gestures, he knew that Sonny felt the regret. Or maybe Dante had to believe that in order to preserve his own sanity? No, he thought, it was true and real, his father did not hate him. The idea that Sonny could possibly feel the same way for him as his mother did was so new and different to Dante, he didn't quite know what to do with it. On the one hand, knowing who Sonny was, Dante was repulsed by the palpability of Sonny's irrepressible emotional response to him, and on the other hand, he welcomed it, he welcomed the "reaching out" that both of them seemed destined to do, and found himself needing it desperately.

"Hey," Sonny said quietly. Dante responded with a nod.

"You seem better. Got that lightness in your step," ventured Sonny. "I'm glad to see you sticking around. Morgan told me you guys had some batting practice the other day. Been making more friends?"

"Yeah, I guess Morgan and I are getting pretty tight," Dante responded. "And that woman you saw me with the other day. Brenda? She's been helping me out a lot."

Sonny's body went stiff and that familiar shroud of coldness came over his eyes. He started to speak with a raised voice but then cleared his throat and said, "Oh, has she now?" He sniffed and adjusted his feet, seemingly to anchor himself closer to the ground. "And she hasn't told you? Our history?"

* * *

"So there you have it, Ma." Sam pulled her arms up in a gesture of defeat. "My father is a Zacchara. Aren't you going to say anything?"

Both mother and daughter were in the living room of Alexis' lakehouse. Since Sam had first spilled the news, Alexis had not been able to utter any words and stood, mouth frozen open in disbelief. She finally ejected a loud and startling, "Ha!"

"It absolutely figures that even at the tender age of fifteen I was drawn to the bad boy. Before he even knew he was a bad boy. You have to appreciate the utter...tragedy...of such a discovery. I mean was I genetically programmed to always be attracted to psychotic mobsters? Even before they became psychotic mobsters? Or maybe my contact with them is what came first. Some ineffable energy I emit drove these men, Sonny, Jerry, now...Rudy...into an irredeemable life of crime?" Alexis' face twisted as she did the calculus in her head. She threw back her head, and seemingly satisfied with the result, said to no one in particular, "No, some of them were criminals even before I came along."

Sam shrugged. "Well, we don't really know who he is now, do we? He may have made his way out of the family business, gone legit?"

Alexis and Sam looked at each other, and, as if on cue, both shook their heads in unison: No. It made too much sense that Sam's father would be affiliated with organized crime.

"But, why, Sam? Why did you feel the need to investigate this now, after all this time?" Alexis asked.

"I'd like an answer to that myself." The voice came from the door, held ajar by Jason. "I'd also like to know why you went to Johnny before coming to me."

Sam struggled to speak. "Wait, how do you know I went to Johnny?" she stammered only to immediately hold a hand up and say, "Nevermind, you're Jason, of course, you know." She then jerked her shoulders up and drew her arms together in contrition. "You know how I am about family, Jason. I had to know. After Spinelli dug up the name I had to find some evidence of the connection for myself."

Jason blinked. Then, both he and Sam jumped as Alexis ejected another loud "Ha!" She proceeded to smile broadly and pointed alternately at both of them. "And this totally explains you two as well," she said with a manic glee. "It totally figures that you'd be with a guy who may very well be just like your father."

Jason scrunched up his eyes in exaggerated pain while Sam glared at her mother. They both shook their heads. As they turned to leave, Sam looked back at Alexis, rolled her eyes and mouthed, "Whatever."

* * *

Rudy Zacchara stood on the docks with his back turned on the tiny town of Port Charles. He faced the water and held a phone up to his ear.

"Yeah, it looks like we're going to have to speed things up a bit...don't ask me why! I've just heard rumblings. Got to keep your ear close to the ground, I keep telling you! Put the players in place as soon as possible...Yes, yes, I know, that wasn't the original deal. This town is making my skin crawl. We need to make our move and quick!"

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A/N Thanks for reading! Reviews appreciated.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N Well, the story onscreen is backtracking bigtime and my little Brante fantasy here has been nipped in the bud. My muse seems to be directing me towards SnB these days. This chapter and the following one have been sitting on my computer half-done for ages. Just some stuff that needed to be said between SnB that never was, or will be, onscreen. Thought it prudent to get this out before the Big Wedding. The plot developments will be coming to a head soon. So I may wrap this up in less than 20 chapters. Thank you, again, to my readers. Kind of saddened, though, that eventhough the reader numbers are still there, the comments have become few and far between. I know that both Lante folk and SnBers have a hard time thinking outside their boxes. And people in both fandoms probably don't want their fandom friends to know they're reading this abomination of a story. Whatever the case, I'd still love to hear from you all.

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**Chapter 16**

Sonny turned from his desk to see Brenda entering his house.

Brenda stopped still and looked around the living room, confused. She turned to Sonny and murmured, "Hey."

His eyes wide with surprise, Sonny returned her greeting. "What brings you here, Brenda?

Beneath the confusion, Brenda's mouth contorted into a half smile. "I have no idea. I was just driving, heading home I guess. Did they add a new turn-off to Harborview since the last time I was here? I don't know, I guess I got turned around. Funny how that can happen even in a town you grew up in. For some reason my car found your driveway. I guess I wasn't thinking."

Sonny's gaze softened and his mouth dropped open a bit. He reached for her elbow but then drew his hand back. "You don't look well," he said, turning to the bar. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water, I guess." Brenda plopped herself down on the couch, her legs turned under her. She reached up to adjust the cap on her head, and looking down at herself, tucked her sweater closer around her.

Sonny examined Brenda's hunched on his couch and handed her the water bottle. "Are you cold? Maybe some hot tea would be better?"

"No. No, I'm fine," Brenda grimaced at Sonny's offer. She drew herself further inward, more self-conscious of her physically weakened state. Then she looked up and met Sonny's eyes. She inhaled, her face softened and she seemed to draw from some last reservoir of inner strength.

Perplexed by her condition, Sonny looked searchingly at her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. For God's sake, Sonny. I just got lost. Now I'm taking a breather before venturing out again. Do you mind? You can sit with me for a bit, or maybe I can just leave?"

"No, this is a good time. Let's get some things cleared up here, right now." Sonny sat down next to her on the couch. He coddled his drink, took a sip, then placed it firmly on the coffee table. "Look, Brenda. I know you've been spending time with Dante. I know I have no right to ask what that's about or demand any explanation or even be pissed off at you or him. But, having said that, I still have to ask: what the hell?"

Brenda sipped her water and looked away from Sonny. Her eyes focused on the terrace outside the windows. She rose off the couch and walked to the French doors to get a better look at the view.

Gazing out the window, she said, "You realize there is an entire world out there? A world that has nothing to do with you or me or Port Charles?" She turned around to face Sonny still sitting on the couch. "Can you conceive of such a thing? There are people having their own dramas, in their own languages, operating under their own social rules?"

"What's that have to do with now?"

"Isn't realizing that we are not alone something, Sonny? Doesn't it make you feel small? And at the same time feel so large that you could just wrap your arms around the globe?"

Sonny frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "Your idealism, your dreams, you know I never got any of it, Brenda. God knows I loved you for it, but, you know, I never had that way of looking at things."

"Oh, I know, Sonny," Brenda stated firmly. She turned back to the window angrily, and attempted to shake away her thoughts. Then, she stood in silence for a few seconds, watching the water meet the shore at the edge of the property. "Is that a pier out there?"

Sonny eyes had not left her and, at that moment, his expression of confused concern switched to impatience. "Yes, that's a pier, Brenda. Can you please just sit here and tell me what's going on with you? Something's the matter, I can tell."

Brenda ignored Sonny's invitation and became even more distant. Half-turning while still peering out the window, she started, "There was this place in Rome I used to go to. I didn't have many close friends, but, you know, no one eats alone over there. There's actually a saying 'Il mano no compania el diablo'. The devil takes whoever eats alone. So when you go to a restaurant there's no intimate table for two with a candle in the middle. There are these long tables, rows of them, and you may or may not know who you're sitting next to on any given night."

Her faraway expression became increasingly animated as she continued. "One night I decided to try out this new place. Da Meo Patacca it was called. I heard there would be live music so I went to check it out. Of course, the food was fabulous. But the music is what I'll most remember." Brenda turned around to face Sonny, and her eyes grew alive with the memory. "So, picture this: four short bald guys, in their sixties, maybe, set up at the front of the piazza and start playing music. One has an accordion and the other three have guitars. Given their appearance, you expect something sort of baritone to come out, but one of the guys with the guitar, the lead singer, a little round guy holding his guitar way up on his belly, starts singing, and it's the sweetest smoothest voice you've ever heard. It is a baritone, not quite Sinatra-like, more sweet and quiet, you know, like he had poured honey in his throat before coming out. So you sit there, your belly full of good food and your head full of good wine and you hear this music. Music that totally transports you to another place and time. No, it doesn't transport you, it's more like you're so there, fully present in that one perfect moment." Brenda paused and drifted closer to the couch. "Do you know what that's like Sonny? To have one perfect moment? Would you recognize it if it was right in front of you?"

Sonny reflexively smiled to see Brenda smile at her memory. Then he frowned again and his brow furrowed in confusion. "No, Brenda, I can't say that I have. Maybe I would recognize it, maybe I wouldn't. I guess it would depend on who I was with. You were at this place alone?"

"Yes, I was alone. But it didn't matter."

"It didn't?"

"Not in that moment, no, it didn't," Brenda stated firmly. She turned away again.

Sonny rose and walked to the window. He stood behind Brenda, close enough to inhale the scent of her hair. His hand again involuntarily reached up to her arm, but he pulled back before making contact. He stepped away from her and dug his feet firmly into the ground. He softly grumbled, "So, Dante?"

Her eyes directed at the horizon outside Sonny's window, Brenda quietly stated, "He's opened up to me in a way you never did Sonny."

Sonny's eyes went cold. His mouth stiffened into a grimace as he took a stiff shot of the drink in his hand. "I bet he has," he spit out and turned completely away from Brenda. He walked towards the back of the room and gently touched his glass against the granite edges of the fireplace until it made a rhythmic clinking sound. For a long moment, he stared at the liquid sloshing around in his glass as he tapped it against the granite.

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A/N Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Standing next to the fireplace, Sonny cupped his glass with both hands and placed it gingerly on a side table. He shook out his shoulders and unclenched his fists. His voice, however, retained the coldness as he turned back to Brenda. "This is what you want, Brenda? To sleep with a father and son and then compare the two to their faces? You used to have more class than that."

Brenda immediately turned away from the window and faced Sonny directly. A flame rose up in her eyes and she slammed her water bottle onto the bar. "Class? You're talking to me about class? You son of a bitch."

She rushed to him, her body tense and angled for attack, "You broke my heart Sonny. Just held it and crushed it. No one has ever loved you the way I loved you. And you left me standing alone. You threw me away, standing alone in the goddam rain." The words caught in her throat and she released a soft sob. She fortified herself against the momentary loss in strength and with a finger pointed accusingly at Sonny, she continued, "And I can tell, Sonny, I look at you and your life and this ridiculous house and I know. Those stupid fucking tears welled up in your eyes tell me even if you can't, you have never loved anyone the way you loved me."

"Yeah, baby, you always had me all figured out, didn't you." Sonny's voice was tinged with his familiar unprincipled arrogance.

Operating solely on momentum, Brenda continued, "You talk about class. What has having 'class' ever gotten me? Why is it that trailer trash like your ex-wife can get every single thing she ever wanted? What, am I not capable of doing something dramatic and wrong?"

"Well, that's what I was for, right? Your venture into the wild side, into a world beneath you?"

Between gritted teeth and a quieter voice Brenda said, "You know damn well you were more than that to me. I was ready to leave everything for you."

"And now? What is my son to you?" Sonny's eyes burned with the bitterness swelling up inside him.

Brenda shook away the anger pounding in her skull, took a cleansing breath and quietly said, "Nothing, Sonny. He's a nice guy who has been kind to me, that's all. He's your son, not you." Brenda had to swallow away the bile rising in her throat. The nausea was cresting, and, in an effort to contain it, she closed her eyes and arched her neck up. Once the wooziness had passed, Brenda coolly continued, "Why are we even having this conversation? Don't we both deserve more than hurling accusations at each other?"

"Yes. We do. You know, whatever happened between us, I loved you the best way I knew how. I loved you with my whole heart, whatever was left of it. There's even less left of it now." Sonny took a swig of his drink.

"Why is there even a past tense for the word love. The idea of 'loved' doesn't exist. Because when you love, when you really love, there's no going back, is there? You can't unlove. Isn't that right, Sonny?" Brenda leaned closer to Sonny without taking a step. "You know, I don't even believe love is a real thing. It doesn't exist, I mean, for real, it doesn't. Yet what excruciating pain it is to not have it in your life. How can you miss something that doesn't even exist?"

With eyes focused intently on her face, Sonny calmly stated, "Oh, it exists. It existed every time I looked at you. Every time I set my eyes on you, I was full. Full of wanting you. For years, Brenda, I wanted you. I loved you from the start. And it only got worse."

"But then, what, Sonny? What happened to that?"

Sonny shrugged, turned around and started walking back across the room. "I guess we let go. We both let go."

The exchange had left Brenda breathless. The nausea rose up through her again, and she reached to grab the side of an arm chair to steady herself. She dropped her chin and closed her eyes waiting for it to pass.

Across the room Sonny turned and stared at Brenda. "What is the matter, Brenda? Why are you here? In Port Charles, I mean. What brought you here?"

Her knuckles white from holding on so tightly to the chair and without raising her chin or opening her eyes, Brenda said, "I came here to see Robin. For medical reasons."

Sonny's eyes widened and he took a step towards Brenda. He scanned her body, her face, what he could see of her hair under the cap. "Damn it, I knew something was off. What's going on?"

Brenda cleared her throat and looked down and shifted her feet. Still looking down she murmured, "They found something, a growth, somewhere back here." She pointed to her head and let her hand linger briefly to twist some hair around her finger.

Visibly shaken, Sonny asked, "What? A growth? You mean cancer?" Sonny's body was taut with concern. He concentrated his gaze on her and made a stalled motion to reach out his arms to take hers. His fingers stopped at her wrists and he gently took her hands in his. "Did you ask Robin to not tell me? Why didn't she tell me?"

Brenda looked up at Sonny and nodded. "Believe it or not, there's such a thing as doctor patient confidentiality, Sonny. Even in this town." She wiped away the tears welled in her eyes and smiled faintly. "I don't want to involve too many people in this. I'm not here to get attention or to have the town fawning over 'Poor Brenda.' I just came here to get better. and once I am better, I'm going back to Rome." She wiggled her hands out of his and turned her back, once again gazing out the window.

"Brenda, there are people here who love you. You know that, right? Why can't you let..." Sonny's voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper. He grabbed Brenda's elbows and turned her around to face him. His palms stroked Brenda's arms as he looked down on her with a tearful, yet focused gaze. He drew her hands up to his mouth and bowed his head into them. The searing pain behind Brenda's eyes softened as she tilted her head and looked at Sonny hunched before her. She found herself breathless again, this time for completely different reasons.

Sonny moved her hands back down away from her and inhaled deeply. Unsteadily he whispered, "Is there anything I can do? You'd let me know, right? If there is anything?"

Brenda's mouth opened to speak, but, not finding the words, she nodded and smiled weakly.

Sonny looked down at her hands, again held tightly in his grasp. He let his fingers idly stroke her knuckles. Struggling to keep the tears from coming, he said, "I didn't want to let you in to my life. And I did. I didn't want to love you, and I did. I was absolutely powerless to stop it. The very first time I've allowed another person to make me feel powerless was with you, Brenda. You and Stone were the first ones I ever let into my heart. His life ended in front of my eyes. So many lives have ended in front of my eyes. I never wanted you to be one of them. I never wanted to see you hurt. And now you're telling me you have this thing. A growth, cancer, whatever. And it's like a punch in the gut seeing you in pain or hurt. You know that don't you?"

"Well, this is kind of why I didn't want you or anyone else besides Robin to know. This is my thing to deal with, Sonny. There's nothing you can do." Brenda squeezed Sonny's hands and then let them go. Her face hardened a bit. "Besides, you severed your ties to me a long time ago. You let me know in no uncertain terms that you didn't want me in your life. You didn't want me as your responsibility."

Sonny was not deterred by her words. His voice remained soft as he said, "What we had can't be severed. You know I did what I did to protect you. I thought we made peace with all of that a long time ago."

"Yes, we did make peace. But, you're right, what we had can't be easily severed. My mind still goes back to that time. I could move oceans away and my mind will still bring me back to that time when I wanted you with all my heart. And I longed for you to want me." Brenda's voice caught in her throat. She steeled herself and continued, "And I keep thinking. It's not that you didn't want me hurt by the danger, it's more like you didn't want to be the one responsible, you didn't want to invest in us, attach yourself to me, for fear of anything happening to me because of you."

"What's the difference? Not wanting you hurt, not wanting to be responsible for you being hurt, aren't they the same thing?"

"Not wanting me hurt is about me and your feelings for me, and not wanting to be responsible is about you, Sonny, only you."

Sonny inhaled deeply. "Let me help you. You can trust me now Brenda. I'm not going anywhere. I want to do everything in my power to help you. And to be with you if you need me to be."

Brenda found herself powerless to say anything in response. Silently, she reached for his hands and a warm smile tremblingly rose over her face.

* * *

Dante walked up to Spinelli's office and finding the door ajar, entered the room. He ambled towards the laptop open on Spinelli's desk. Peering at the screen, he said to himself, "Ha, I guess I don't have to come groveling to The Jackal afterall." He scrolled down. "Jackpot...Rudy Zacchara...Wait, isn't this the same guy I saw on the dock with my mother? Crap." Dante rushed out the door and made a mad dash to his mother's house.

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A/N Thanks for reading!


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